


the fluffer

by preciouspeterparker



Series: all yours (and you know it) [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers Orgy, BDSM, Bondage, Bondage and Discipline, Bottom Peter Parker, Cock Cages, Cock Rings, Corporal Punishment, Crossdressing, Dark Tony Stark, Discipline, Dom/sub, Edging, Feminization, Fluff and Angst, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, Handcuffs, Humiliation, Innocent Peter Parker, Is This Incest, Lingerie, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Multi, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Orgy, Peter is Legal, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn With Plot, Post Orgasm Torture, Punishment, Sex Swing, Sex Worker Peter Parker, Sexual Content, Slut Peter Parker, Spanking, Submissive Peter Parker, Teasing, Tickling, Touch-Starved, Twink, Twink Peter Parker, Vibrators, Virgin Peter Parker, don't think too much about it, if the avengers are a family, porn with little plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-03-26 12:46:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19006090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preciouspeterparker/pseuds/preciouspeterparker
Summary: In order to pay for his sick aunt's surgery, Peter Parker accepts a job as an intern for Stark Industries. However, that and his diner job isn't enough to pay for the treatment she needs. So what does he do? What any sensible superhero would do, of course.Become the Avenger's personal sex slave, duh.





	1. wtf is a fluffer, anyways

**Author's Note:**

> listen, yall, all my work for this fandom has been family friendly
> 
> this??? idk what this is,,,, 
> 
>  
> 
> no smut in this chapter, but it's coming... hope u enjoy

“I’m sorry; I can’t,” Peter apologized, using his shoulder to hold his phone up. As he pressed his ear against the phone, he pressed a bunch of noises. “Oof, sorry, Ned.” 

 

“Just slow down,” he breathes. “Where are you into such a hurry?” 

 

“Ned, I have work,” he said, picking up his phone. 

 

Peter has a thing about time. Thing was, he was never on it. 

 

“Oh, really? You’re gonna land a stable job so you can go to Comic Con with us?” Michelle asked, who was now joined in on the joint call. 

 

“Yes,” he sighed. “Well, hopefully… eventually.” 

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ned threw his head back and swirled in his chair. 

 

“It’s an internship, which  _ may _ lead to a job,” Peter said, slightly out of breath as he sprinted down the streets. “Hopefully. Fingers crossed, guys. I gotta go.” 

 

“Good luck!” Ned said before he ended the call. 

 

Despite his rush, Peter took a moment to gather his thoughts. Lost, he stood in front of the Avengers Compound, which was all looking way too intimidating for his liking at the moment. 

 

He pocketed his phone, crossing his fingers as he stepped inside the building. 

 

“Can I help you?” the receptionist asked, not bothering to look up from her screen. 

 

“Hi, uh, Parker,” he said, stumbling to her desk. “It’s my first day.” 

 

She frowned, scrolling the mouse. “Uh, I’m sorry, my computer’s having trouble,” she said, scratching the back of her neck. “Um—” She tore her eyes away from the screen to look at Peter, and she smiled. “Oh, well, you’ll be just down the hall, Mr. Parker.” 

 

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, accepting the ID pass. He slipped the lanyard over his head and headed down through the door to her left. 

 

“Good luck,” she mumbled. Even quieter, so quiet that Peter wouldn’t have caught it if not for his heightened senses, “They’re going to tear you apart.” 

 

He stopped, hand letting go of the doorknob. “Did you say something?” 

 

“Hmm?” She hummed, looking away. “No, I don’t think I did.” She slapped the side of her computer. “Damn thing.” 

 

“Try unplugging it and plugging it back in,” he offered, slipping through the door without another thought. 

 

As soon as he stepped through the doors, he was met by a man standing outside his car. “Mr. Stark does  _ not  _ like to waste time. Let’s get going.” 

 

Peter stumbled into the backseat. Once buckled, he peered past the seat to look at his Chauffeur. “I’m working with Mr. Stark?” he exclaimed. “Whoa, I mean, I knew it was his labs, but I didn’t know I’d be working under him.” 

 

The driver snorted. “Well, you won’t be working  _ above  _ him.” 

 

Peter opened his mouth to ask, but the car had already stopped. “We’re here.” 

 

Peter climbed out of the car and knocked on the window. “This place is so big you have to  _ drive?”  _ Exasperated, he started to roll up the window. “Thank you!” He called desperately, but the car was already gone. 

 

Then, Peter turned back to what stood in front of him. The Avengers campus was enormous, but he was far from what he understood was SI. He recognized the main building from the newspapers, but this? He had no idea what this was. 

 

He knocked on the door, but as soon as he did, the door creaked. 

 

“Hello?” he called, stepping inside. “I… What…?” 

 

As soon as he stepped inside, he stumbled over scattered shoes littering the entrance. He stepped over the shoes, compiling the urge to clean the mess, and found himself in a dimly lit living room. 

 

If he thought his apartment was a mess, he doesn’t think as much now. Especially not when one compares it to  _ this.  _ No, this, this is a pigsty. This is a mess. 

 

“How may I assist you?” a voice spoke, surrounding Peter. He jumped, almost on the ceiling, but he refrained. 

 

“Uh, I’m lost,” he said, looking around. Suddenly, a laughter sounded, and he spun on his heels to find the one and only Tony Stark. 

 

Now, they’d met before. Not like this, of course. Iron Man and Spiderman — they met, of course, but lowly Peter Parker? The last time and first time he saw the real Tony Stark was when he was five years old at the expo. 

 

“That’s Friday,” he says. “You’re the new slave.” 

 

Peter smiles, a joke. This Tony, he’s quite the charmer. With jokes. That’s his thing, right? Jokes. 

 

…

 

He doesn’t look like he’s joking.

 

Peter laughs because what else is he supposed to do when his new boss says something weird with a straight face? 

 

He prays to God it’s a joke. “Yes, sir. Peter Parker,” he says, holding his hand out. 

 

Tony looks him up and down. “You know who I am.” 

 

“Yes,” he says, nodding. “Also, sir, I’d like to say thank you for giving me this opportunity—“ 

 

He flashes a predatory grin. “Don’t thank me yet,” he says, leaning in close. He’s directly next to his right ear when he whispers, “If you even get through the  _ day,  _ I’ll be surprised.” 

 

Peter smiles warmly, despite being offput by the strange vibes he’s putting out. “So, where can I start?” 

 

“In the lab. I like to test my products before using them.” Tony Stark starts walking, and Peter follows him down the hallway, up a small stairwell, into an elevator, and finally, he’s led to a lab, an enormous lab, nothing compared to the one he worked in at his school. 

 

“Of course,” he says in agreement. However, Peter doesn’t feel like he’s on the same level. 

 

This man is  _ nothing  _ like the Iron Man he knows. He doesn’t recognize the dark look in his eyes. 

 

“Sit on the table,” Tony orders, and Peter looks at him in confusion. The lab is dark, even more so than the hallways. Peter looks to what looks like a hospital bed, except no pillows, no mattress, just a white sheet covering it. He hoists himself up on it, feet dangling off to the side. 

 

The lab is awfully quiet. “I feel like I’m at the doctor’s,” he said, trying to make a joke. “Or like, I’m about to get dissected.” 

 

Tony pulled a black box out and placed it on the table. “You kind of are,” he said, opening it. 

 

“Ha, ha,” he said. 

 

And there he goes again! What is it with this man and his weirdly, concerning jokes? 

 

Peter’s starting to get scared when he taps the side of his leg. “Lay down,” he orders, and Peter swings his feet over. 

 

“You know, I thought I’d be the one  _ doing  _ the experiments,” he said. Tony stopped, thought for a moment, and closed the box. 

 

“What did you say your name was again?” 

 

“Parker,” Peter said, swallowing nervously. “Peter. Peter Parker.” 

 

“Okay, Peter,” Tony said, “what gave you that impression?” 

 

“Well,” he said, smiling again in that confused way of his. “This is a lab internship. I assumed that’s what I’d be doing.” 

 

Tony looked at him. Then, he burst out into laughter. “Oh, you’re adorable,” he said, putting a hand on his chest. “Petey, honey, you’re in the wrong place.” 

 

“What?” he asked, anxiety pooling in his chest. “I didn’t get the job?” 

 

“Not this one, I’m afraid,” Tony said, giving him another look over. “Damn, that’s disappointing.” Peter looked up at him, blinking. “How old are you?” 

 

“Uh, 17, sir,” he replied. “But I’m a freshman in college. So, completely qualified for the internship.” 

 

“Damn,” he cursed again. “Right.” He scratched his head. “Happy outside will take you back to the lab. I’ll see you around, Peter.” 

 

Peter jumped off the table and shot him yet another confused look. “A pleasure meeting you, Mr. Stark.” He held his hand out for him to shake. Tony grinned, grabbing ahold of him suddenly, putting his hand on his lower back. 

 

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he said. “Have fun on your first day. I hope I’ll be seeing more of you, Peter.” 

 

Dazed, Peter was pushed into the hallway. 

 

“What… What just happened?” 

 

***

 

“Oh my god,” Ned seethed. “You actually met Tony Stark. Tony fucking stark.” 

 

Peter sipped his frappe across from Ned and Michelle. “Yeah, for some reason the receptionist thought I was his assistant,” he said. 

 

“Probably thought you were too young to be a scientist,” Ned said. 

 

Michelle, however, had a different idea. She slammed her cup on the table. She used one of those refillable ones, you know, for saving the turtles and such. It made a loud noise when it hit the table. “Or she knew you were a twink.” 

 

Peter snorted. “I’m not a twink,” he said, sipping his drink. Michelle raised an eyebrow. 

 

“You are, and she thought you were their fluffer,” she said, grinning. 

 

“That’s not a real thing, MJ,” Ned said, nudging her. “That’s some absurd fictional idea some crazed fan made up. The Avengers do not have a fluffer.” 

 

“A fluffer?” Peter echoed. 

 

“Oh, kid, you graduated too early,” Michelle cooed. “A fluffer arouses male porno actors.” 

 

Peter choked on his caramel drink. “What? Why would she think I’m, I’m, that?” 

 

“Relax, Pete. It’s not real,” Ned said. 

 

Michelle shrugged. “You know how damaged they are? I wouldn’t put it past them.” 

 

Peter did whatever he could to forget about the conversation, about the experience. Everyday when he went into work, he couldn’t help but look in the direction of the small building, set apart from the rest of the compound. He couldn’t help but wonder. When he ate lunch alone on his bench, he made theories on what could be behind those closed doors. 

 

Thankfully, though, hypothetical fluffers aside, the job was paying well. It’s an internship, but he’s being paid decent money. 

 

“So you can go out with us today, right? We can book the tickets?” Ned had asked excitedly. 

 

“No, Ned,” he said, checking his bank account. “I can’t.” Ned sighed. “You two can go without me. Really.” 

 

“No,” Ned said. “Peter, you deserve to. You’ve been working hard at this new job, right?” 

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, hanging up. 

 

Peter dropped the phone in his pocket. 

 

“Mr. Parker?” 

 

Peter sat up straight to look at the nurse. “It’s your Aunt. She’s out of surgery.” 

 

“Oh, uh, thank you.” 

 

Peter followed the nurse to his aunt’s room. Her face had been cleaned, washed of all blood, but the cuts were still there. A reminder of his failure. 

 

“These are here when you’re ready,” she said before leaving. 

 

Peter looked at the bills, then to his aunt. 

 

It really wasn’t enough. 

  
  


He had managed to forget for a moment. When he goes on his patrols, his missions, when he puts on that suit, he’s able to forget. He’s no longer Peter Parker. He no longer is broke, a kid, a orphan. He becomes Spider-Man. A hero. 

 

“Watch your six!” Peter hadn’t needed the warning. After all, he has Spidey sense for that. Still, he flips and calls a thank you to Iron Man, who is floating to his right with his repulsor raised. 

 

“Good work, team,” Captain America had announced. “You too, Spider-Man. You do good work.” 

 

“Oh, wow, you have no idea how much that means,” he said, blushing under his mask. 

 

“Remind me why you’re not on the team again,” Iron Man says, floating in front of him now. The rest of the Avengers follow, all circling in on Peter like he’s a carcass and they’re vultures. 

 

“I don’t trust a man with a mask,” Natasha said, squinting. She was in his personal bubble, only centimeters away from his face. “What are you hiding, Spider-Man?” 

 

“Nat, he did good,” Captain said, holding a hand between her and him. 

 

“Join us for dinner,” Iron man offers.

 

“Oh, really, I can’t,” Peter says, holding his hands up. 

 

“It’s on us.” 

 

Peter bites his lip. “Well, I mean…” 

 

Tony snorts and whacks the kid on the head. “Dinner, it is.” 

 

He doesn’t know how he got into this situation, but here he is, sitting in the Avengers living room, back to that mysterious, cluttered place on his first day’s confusion. It’s weirdly unnerving, even though now the lights are on. 

 

Everyone is seated around the television with a plate in hand. Except, the plates here are large, like, mutant sized plates. He’s not complaining, though, as his metabolism leaves him constantly hungry. He’s actually on his third plate when Sam snorts. “And I thought Steve was a black hole.” 

 

“Sorry,” Peter apologized, pulling his mask back down over his lips. He set his fork down. 

 

“Don’t be,” Bucky cooed. “You need it. You look like Steve before his serum.” 

 

Peter twitches, trying not to be offended. Bucky smiles as if in apology, and he’s reaching over to dig his thumbs in between his ribs. Peter pushes him away with a giggle he hides with a cough.

 

_ Twink. Twink. Twink.  _

 

He can’t stop thinking about it. 

 

_ Fluffer.  _

 

…

 

_ Fuck.  _

 

“Yeah, you eat okay? Don’t know how to cook?” Clint asked. 

 

“Money’s just tight,” he said, shrugging. “College life and all.” 

 

“You’re in college?” Bruce asked. “How old are you?” 

 

“Oh, I’m… 26? Going back to get my degree,” he lied, and everyone practically rolled their eyes. 

 

“Well, if you’re 26, why aren’t you drinking?” Tony asked, noting how Peter was the only one in the room without a drink in his hand. 

 

“I don’t like it,” he lies. “Besides, I have work tomorrow morning. And a shift at the diner in the afternoon.” 

 

“Two jobs? And still broke?” Tony asked, and Steve glares at him. 

 

“I know how it is,” he said. “Growing up in the Great Depression?” He gives a knowing glance to Bucky. “It’s hard, not knowing where your next meal is.” 

 

“I, uh, actually have a job opening, if you’re interested,” Tony said, sipping his wine, and a thick silence coats the room. “Pays better than whatever shitty diner job you have.” 

 

“Really?” Peter asked, interested. 

 

“Yeah, join the Avengers,” he said. 

 

Peter sighed, losing interest. He sunk back into the couch. “I can’t reveal my identity,” he said, shaking his hand. 

 

“The city pays us,” he said. “Think of the food.” 

 

He thinks of May. 

 

He could really use the money. 

 

But, also… If he reveals his face, he puts her at risk. 

 

“I can’t,” he said, grimacing. The money could save her, but the job could kill her. 

 

“Well,” Tony said, looking at the others. “We have another job opening. You, uh, wouldn’t have to show us your face.” 

 

“Tony--” 

 

“No, Bruce, let him finish,” Steve said, eyes burning blue. 

 

“What is it? I’ll do anything, whatever job you have. A maid? You guys really need a maid. It’s a mess, really.” 

 

“Spidey,” Tony said, “Have you ever heard of a fluffer before?” 


	2. go fuck yourself - two feet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut! kinks in this chapter: feminization (not really but author’s got a thing for Peter in thigh highs), corporal punishment (spanking), and there’s not a name for it but peter sitting on tony’s Lap 😎😎😎😎😎😎😎

“So it’s true,” Peter said, eyes wide. “You… You do have a fluffer.” 

 

“Not at the moment,” Tony said, frowning. “It’s hard to keep one that can take it.” 

 

Peter couldn’t help but think back to a few weeks ago, when his first day led him here, when Tony thought he was applying for that position. 

 

And, now, he’s here. Again. 

 

“Not really a fluffer,” Bruce struggles. “We just like that word better. It’s really an umbrella position.” 

 

“Like a roadie for a band,” Sam elaborated. “Errands, housecleaning, stress relief.” 

 

“Stress relief,” he repeated, dumbly. “Stress relief?” 

 

“Part of your duties would be sex,” Tony said. “If you’re not up for it, that’s that. But you would be perfect for it.” 

 

“Why me?” he said, heart fluttering. “You don’t even know what I look like.” 

 

“Spidey, we don’t need to see your face to tell how adorable you are,” Clint cooed, and Natasha glanced at him but then nodded in agreement. “Besides, normal humans aren’t really cut out for this job. An Enhanced is preferable.” 

 

“Does this make me a prostitute?” Peter asked, looking down at his lap. “Because…” 

 

“No, I don’t think so,” Bucky said, deep in thought. 

 

Peter sighed, putting his head in his hands. 

 

“You don’t have to,” Tony said. “It’s just an offer. Think about it.” 

 

Peter did. He pondered for a few moments before spitting out, “Um, I, I have one more question.” Tony motioned for him to continue. “Uh, I’ve never… I’ve never done it before.” Yet again, that thick silence covered the rooms. Peter was quick to fill it with anxious rambling. “I-I, I’m not stupid. I know what it is and how it works, but I’ve never done it before, so I might not be any good.” 

 

“A virgin,” Tony said through gritted teeth. “Oh my  _ god.”  _

 

Peter flushed, somewhat hurt. “Hey! It’s not that weird… I don’t slutshame, and you shouldn’t virgin shame. Plenty of people wait! I mean, I’m not, I just haven’t, but that’s… Rude!” 

 

“Spidey,” Natasha hummed, sinking down into the seat beside him. She rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. “They’re not making fun of you.” 

 

“Even if I’m 27?” 

 

“You said you were 26,” Steve said, squinting. 

 

“Oh, right, that’s what I meant,” Peter said, thumping his head. “A 26 year old virgin.” 

 

“I’m going into cardiac arrest,” Tony said. 

 

“Tony, quit,” Sam scolded. “You’re going to scare him.” 

 

“Virgin,” he stage whispered. “I gotta go before I lose my mind. Think about it, Spidey!” 

 

“Um,” Peter said suddenly. 

 

“You don’t have to make a decision right now,” Natasha said quickly. 

 

“Yes, I want to,” he said, and Tony stopped walking away. “I’d like to interview for the job, if that’s okay.” 

 

“You don’t need to interview if we just offered you the job,” Tony said. “I can hire you right away.” 

 

“Uh, no,” he said, cocking his head. “You can try me out, you know? See if it’s a good fit?” 

 

“You know what’d be a good fit?” Tony asked, and Sam was pushing him out of the room. 

 

“You’ll have to forgive him, Webs. He hasn’t been laid in a while.” 

 

Peter snickers at that, but then he realized how out of place that must’ve been and he covers his mouth. “Sorry,” he apologized. “That was rude.” 

 

Steve grabs a drink out of the fridge. “Well, it’s been a while since our last fluffer quit.” 

 

“What happened?” Peter asked. “If you don’t mind my asking.” 

 

“So polite,” Steve hummed. “Don’t see that in many kids these days.” 

 

Peter pouted. “That’d be because I’m not a kid.” 

 

“22?” Steve guessed, and Peter stood deathly still. 

 

“I told you, I’m 27,” he said. 

 

“26!” Steve said, rolling his eyes. “Don’t make a habit of lying.” 

 

“I’m not,” Peter lied. 

 

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Lying is a capital offense around here,” he warned. 

 

“The fluffer,” Peter said, desperate for a conversation change. At the mention, Clint looked away. “Am I overstepping?” 

 

“No,” Natasha said, smiling softly. Again, her hand was there to rub his shoulder, to comfort him. He’d never seen that side of her. “It’s just, poor girl took one look at Clint’s room, and she was gone.” 

 

“It wasn’t even that messy,” he grumbled. 

 

“It was so messy… she quit?” Peter asked, and Clint glared at him. 

 

“Watch it, boy,” he said. 

 

“I’m sorry; I meant no disrespect,” he said, shrinking back. However, he couldn’t stop thinking about the horrible state his room must be in. A shudder runs down his spine. “I could get started on cleaning your room, if you’d like.” 

 

Clint studied him for a moment. “That’s okay,” he said. 

 

“Is there anything I can do?” Peter asked. 

 

Everyone around the room was completely chill. Just sitting around. 

 

And then there was Peter, a virgin who just became a sex worker about five minutes ago. 

 

“Oh, come here,” Natasha beckoned. 

 

Peter had been worried at their silence, but now that his job was actually starting, he couldn’t help the nervous, excited tremble. He stood in front of his summoner until she grabbed his wrist and yanked him on her lap. 

 

“Ma’am?” he asked. Her arms tightened around him and she rubbed circles into his back. 

 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” she consoled, holding him. 

 

“And your job starts now,” Clint announced. 

 

“But this isn’t…” Peter trailed off. 

 

“Your job is to let me feed you, cuddle you, and pinch your cheeks,” Natasha said. 

 

“Uh,” Peter said, “She’s scaring me. Who is this? Not Black Widow.” 

 

“Some of us like to fuck twinks,” Clint said. “Some of us are married. And some of us like to watch little twink boys grow up happy and healthy.” 

 

“Hey, I see a boy who looks like he needs cuddling, he’s getting cuddling,” Natasha snapped. 

 

“You can’t even tell what I look like…” Peter trailed off. 

 

“Body language,” she supplied. “I don’t need to see your face to tell you’re touch starved.” 

 

Peter sat up on her lap, pulling away from her shoulder. “Touch starved? I’m not--” 

 

“You are,” she said, hand still rubbing circles into his back. “I didn’t miss the way you reacted when Barnes kneaded your ribs.” Her hand tazed him in the side and left him squeaking. “You just prove my point.” 

 

It really had been a while since he’d been held. 

 

May’s been sick, way too long now. Some days she doesn’t even wake up. She doesn’t have enough energy to sit up, much less hug him.

 

He hadn’t thought anything of it, but now he couldn’t remember the last time someone properly held him. When was that? When was the last time he was held while he cried or kissed gently? Not for a long, long time. 

 

“You feel better?” Natasha asked, and Peter nods slowly. 

 

“I thought my job was to make you feel good,” he said, resisting the urge to rub his eyes through his mask. Natasha smiled in response. 

 

“You did good, child,” she said. “Why don’t you go up and see Stark? I know he’d appreciate it.” 

 

Peter slid off her lap. “Right,” he said. 

 

He remembered the way. He found himself wandering down that same hallway, same staircase, same elevator. 

 

He stumbled into the same dark room. “Spidey,” Tony greeted, waving away the holo he was working on. “What are you doing here?” 

 

“Is there anything I can do for you?” he asked, rocking on his toes. He nervously glanced at the table in the middle of the room. 

 

“Not yet,” he said, and it sounded like a promise. “For now, I’d like you to settle in. See your new room maybe?” 

 

“I have a room already?” he asked. 

 

“Of course,” he said. “I’ve had a room built for you for two years now. Of course, it was being saved for when you joined the Avengers, but as of now you’re part-time, and now since you’re our fluffer…” 

 

“Thank you,” he said, grinning. “I mean it. This job, a room? I’m grateful.” 

 

“See you around, kid,” he said. “Friday will show you to your room.” 

 

“Not a kid,” he said, but he was already in the hallway. 

 

Peter quit the diner job. 

 

He worked a few hours at the internship, a few hours at college, a few hours visiting May, but now, he spent most of his time in the compound. There, he could be Spider-Man. Although he wasn’t an official member, he still went on missions with them. He still had access to everything they did. 

 

It was a pretty sweet deal. 

 

Except, he was hired as a sex slave, right? That’s his job? 

 

Yet, no one has touched him. 

 

Actually, that’s not true. They touch him alright. They grab him almost every chance they get to wrap him in a hug, but nothing sexual. Not even a look. 

 

It keeps Peter up at night. 

 

Peter surfaces from his room a week into his job as a fluffer. He lets out a yawn and watches as the sun comes out. He grabs a water from the fridge and had just started to sip it when he steps back into someone. 

 

“Careful, there,” Steve warns, gently catching him. Peter looks over his shoulder to see his savior. 

 

“Thanks,” he stuttered, setting the water down. 

 

“What’re you doing up?” he asked, watching Peter yawn. 

 

“Can’t sleep. You?” 

 

“Morning training. Care to join me?” 

 

A one on one training session? With Captain America? 

 

“Yes, sir, I would love to. Let me get into my suit--” 

 

“What you’re wearing is fine,” he said quickly. Peter looked down at his black tank top and sweatpants. “No tech allowed, after all. I like to bareback it.” 

 

“Sir,” Peter blushed as they headed towards the training room. “I don’t think you’re using that correctly.” 

 

“Are you questioning me?” Like a switch. Steve suddenly stepped closer to Peter and trapped him against the wall. “Think I’m some clueless virgin from the 40s?” 

 

“No, sir,” he said quickly. “It’s just, well, when I was in High-school, we watched sex ed videos of you specifically saying, ‘Don’t be silly; wrap your willy.’ Hard to think barebacking was your thing.” 

 

“Not as innocent as I thought,” Steve hummed. “Come on. Spar time.” 

 

Steve kicked off his shoes and neatly set them to the side. He stepped on to the mat. 

 

Peter was used to fighting guys bigger than him. Way, way bigger. There was this one time with this guy named Hydro Man? That was crazy. 

 

So he’s taller than him? Big deal. Length isn’t everything. 

 

It shouldn’t matter that his opponent, Steve, is bigger than him. It shouldn’t make a difference. 

 

Peter had faced bigger guys many times before this, but never had he enjoyed it so much. 

 

Peter fought, and he’d actually managed to hold his own, but a simple slip up caused him to be rolled through a painful hold and he landed on his back. Breathless, he was pinned.

 

Neither of them moved. Peter’s chest hitched from where Captain America kept him pressed against the soft mat. The intense staring caused Peter to shift. 

 

He’d been on edge for his entire week here. 

 

The bite made his metabolism speed up, but it also caused his other hormones to go haywire. 

 

Now? He couldn’t even think straight. 

 

“You could fuck me.” He doesn’t know why he said it, but he did. He’s burning, and he’s resisting every urge to buck against the bigger man’s hips. “That’s what I get paid for, after all.” 

 

“Not yet,” the man said, bringing a hand down to his side. “We can’t be scaring you off, now can we?” 

 

“I don’t scare easy,” he says, painfully aware of his heart rapidly beating inside his chest. “I’m not scared of any of you.” 

 

“Maybe you should be,” he whispered, grazing the shell of his ear through his mask. 

 

Peter can’t help it. He bucks up then, hip grinding against Steve’s thigh. Steve retaliates by pushing his knee softly against his crotch. Peter groans. “Sir, it’s okay. I’m not scared. You can… You can fuck me.” 

 

That man grinned, then, an actual shit-eating grin. “I  _ can  _ fuck you?” 

 

Peter stopped. His entire body went deathly still. 

 

_ Fuck.  _

 

“Uh, yes, sir,” he said as calmly as he could, but the realization of his mistake sent a tremor throughout his body. 

 

Peter may be a virgin, but he’s no fool. He knows full and well the rules he’s supposed to follow. 

 

It was in the contract. In this job, he’s completely in their hands. They can do whatever they please with him, and he has to follow every word. 

 

He could opt out. They all promised him that there wouldn't’t be any shame if he did. However, Peter couldn’t bring himself to even consider it. Not when he was having this much fun. 

 

However, he’s not having  _ that  _ much fun, especially with everyone around him refusing to give him what he wants. He’s been on edge for a week now and dying for someone to do something. 

 

He hadn’t been able to jerk off in a week, which was fine. He can go a simple week without masturbating. He’s not, like, a sex addict. 

 

But not masturbating combined with the long stares, the lingering touches? 

 

It’s hell. 

 

“It’s not your place to  _ let  _ me do anything. Do you understand?” he asked, grabbing his face. Peter gave a weak nod. “Verbal answer.” 

 

“Yes, sir,” he mumbled weakly. 

 

“You’re here for our pleasure, for when we want to fuck you, not when you want us to fuck you,” Steve said, still chilling on top of him as if it didn’t occur to him to move. Peter wasn’t complaining. 

 

“I never said--” Peter started hopelessly but he was cut off. 

 

“Then why are you rutting against my leg like a dog?” Steve asked, and Peter hadn’t even realized he’d begun moving again. 

 

Peter gaped. Next thing he knew Friday was speaking. “Boss is requesting your presence,” she dutily informed. 

 

Steve rolled off of him then, and Peter sighed, disappointed. He sat up. “He doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” Steve said. 

 

Peter snapped out of his trance and jumped to his feet. “Right,” he said, wrapping his hand around the doorknob. “Right.” He didn’t move. 

 

“Good luck,” he offered. 

 

Deja vu hit Peter like a truck. “On what?” 

 

Steve shrugged. “I hope you’re ready.” 

 

Peter stared at him for a moment before finally opening the door and heading out into the hallway. When he opened the door to Tony’s lab, he was sitting on top of his desk with a holo in front of him. “Finally,” he said. “Take a seat.” Peter looked around for somewhere to sit, but the only seat available was the dreaded table. He hesitated before sitting up on it with his feet dangling over the edge. “The others tell me you’ve been restless.” Tony presses a gentle hand to his shoulder and urges for the boy to lay back. “We’ve been a bit cruel making you wait, huh?” 

 

Peter starts to reply, but he stops himself. He thinks back to what Steve told him. Not wanting to do bad at a job that’s just begun, he thinks before he says, “If that’s what you want, I don’t mind.” 

 

Tony stops his shuffling around and he grins. “Good boy,” he says, and Peter keens. Some of the anxious energy leaves him, and a warm, sunny feeling floats up within him. “Already getting the hang of things.” 

 

“What are you doing, Mr. Stark?” he asked, watching as Tony grabs his arm and cleans a spot on his arm. 

 

“You don’t have to call me that when you’re not working, Spidey,” he said, grabbing a needle. “You can call me Tony.” 

 

“Oh,” Peter says, feeling the pressure to say his own. “Uh--” 

 

Tony seems to sense what he’s about to say because he is quick to say, “Don’t feel as if you have to tell me yours. Hell, you could tell me a fake one. Or, Spider-Man works fine too. Your choice.” 

 

Peter considers this, but a sharp poke in his arm pulls him out of his thoughts. “What’re you doing?” 

 

“Taking some blood,” he said, watching the blood flow through the IV. “Just going to run some tests over what your body can take. Stuff like that.” 

 

“I’m allergic to strawberries,” Peter says. 

 

Tony smiles, an actual smile. Not a grin, nothing menacing. It’s sweet. Peter lights up. “Good to know,” he says. “I can fuck you?” 

 

Peter stopped. His entire body went deathly still. 

 

Fuck. 

 

:"“Uh, yes, sir,” he said as calmly as he could, but the realization of his mistake sent a tremor throughout his body. 

 

Peter may be a virgin, but he’s no fool. He knows full and well the rules he’s supposed to follow. 

 

It was in the contract. In this job, he’s completely in their hands. Unless he uses his safe word, there’s no saving him. He doesn’t really feel unsafe, scared, or in pain. A state of constant confusion sums it up. Oh, and the teasing. That’s making him lose his mind. 

 

But it’s tolerable. Or, at least, it was until they kicked it up a notch. 

 

“Believe me, I want to take you apart with my hands,” he said, and Peter’s heart froze. “Not yet.” The grim look faded, and Tony clapped a bit so comforting hand on his shoulder. “That’s all for today.” 

 

“That’s all?” Peter asked. 

 

Tony waved him off, and that was it. 

 

This really shouldn’t be so hard. 

 

“That’s what she said!” Michelle said, clapping her hands together. 

 

Peter glared at her before falling back on her bed in despair. “I’m in agony.” 

 

“Oh, Pete,” she laughs. “You’re overreacting.” 

 

Peter sat up in a hurry. “I’m not! I’m actually losing my mind! I can’t think straight on missions or in class… even when I was visiting May today, all I was thinking about was Captain America’s obscenely large hands. They’re huge, by the way. And you know what they say about hand size.” 

 

“That bad, huh?” she asked, resting her chin on her palm. 

 

“Yes,” he seethed. “I don’t know what to do! A week and a half now, and the most work I’ve done is take notes for Mr. Stark and clean the doorway.” 

 

“Start something,” she offered. 

 

“What?” Peter asked. “Me? No, no. That’s…” 

 

“Tease then back. See what happens.” Peter’s eyebrows furrowed together, and MJ made sure to stay quiet while Peter’s two brain cells were hard at work. Finally, they unfurrowed, and his face lit up. “MJ, can I borrow some clothes?” 

 

***

This was, in theory, a good idea. Peter was pretty proud of himself. 

 

But now? He’s not so sure. 

 

He’d just gotten home from a mission with the others, and everyone was already swarming the living room for post-mission recovery. They took a bit to clean themselves up, fix snacks, etc.

 

“Boss is requesting your presence,” Friday announced. 

 

Peter flinched. “T-thanks,” he stuttered, using his palms to unwrinkle the fabric on his shirt. 

 

Peter stood back and studied his reflection in the mirror. His hair was damp from the shower. His hair must be in desperate need for a haircut because messy curls frame his face. 

 

It’s not his hair causing the hold up. 

 

Peter’s clad in his new “work” uniform. 

 

_ This is a mistake.  _

 

“The movie’s going to start without you,” Friday said.

 

“I’ll just be a moment,” Peter mumbled, giving himself another look over. 

 

Peter anxiously tugged down the end of the dress, but it was no use. The damn thing was incredibly short. 

 

He lets out a heavy sigh before snatching the maid cover off of his desk and adjusting it on top of his head. He picked up the long black thigh high stockings and pulled them over his feet. Instead of wearing his mask, he opts for a black, masquerade like mask. 

 

Peter sucks in a deep breath before slipping out of the room. 

 

The others don’t bother looking up at him when he enters. “Webs, while you’re up, get the popcorn,” Clint called from his perch on the couch. 

 

Peter obliqued, taking the popcorn out of the microwave and emptying it into a bucket. “Here you go, sir.” 

 

“You only have to—“ Clint stopped short when his eyes settled on Peter. “Holy fuck.” 

 

Bucky leaned over to give Tony a high five. “Next, put him in a slutty angel outfit. Or, wait, a nurse. Let’s do a nurse?” 

 

“This isn’t my doing,” he said, breathless. “What the hell are you wearing, Spidey?” 

 

“My uniform,” Peter said in a “duh” voice. “Do you not like it?” 

 

Tony let out a low growl. “The things I oughta do to you…” 

 

“Then do them,” Peter practically begged. 

 

“Come here.” Peter instantly made his way to stand in front of Tony. His heart caught in his throat before he was yanked on top of him. 

 

Tony leaned back in his recliner and let the shaking boy sit up straight. Peter sat on his lap, his knees on both sides of Tony. He took in a deep breaths, but nothing could stop his shaking. 

 

Yet, he wasn’t scared. He was excited and desperate. 

 

Tony reached out, finally, with his hands to grab a fistful of his hair. Peter leaned into the touch despite the pain. “Innocent,” Tony remarked, tugging his hair to bring his face closer to his. “Those big brown eyes of yours scream innocent, but we know better than that, don’t we? Coming out in this little thing?” Tony picked up the hem of the dress, and Peter pushes his knees together out of embarrassment. “Nuh-uh, naughty boys don’t get to be shy.” 

 

“I’m—“ Peter’s voice broke off. “I’m not naughty.” 

 

Something flashed in Tony’s eyes, something dark he didn’t recognize. “That’s what you want us to think, right? Coming out here, trying to tease us so we give you what you want?” Just like that, he read right through him. Even though Peter still had his clothes on, he felt completely naked. Exposed. Tony had a way of making him feel like that. 

 

“Please,” Peter begged, knees spreading when Tony’s hand snaked up his thigh. It stopped short off his crotch, though, barely brushing against his underwear. 

 

“Do you even know what you’re begging for?” he snarled. 

 

“Touch me,” he begged. 

 

“I think you need a refresher on your manners,” Tony said, pulling up the dress, revealing black lace panties. “Have you forgotten your place?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Don’t worry; I’ll leave you with a reminder you won’t forget.” 

 

The gentle hand placed in the small of his back shifted up to his shoulders to push him against the recliner. Tony propped up his legs and draped him over them. 

 

Peter sighed out of relief. 

 

Finally, for the love of god. He could feel his cock already hardening, pressing against Tony’s thigh. He couldn’t help it though, not when he’d been teased for so long now. All the gentle touches, the no masturbation — it was tame torture, but it was torture nonetheless. 

 

Peter probably should’ve been a little nervous. He was in a room full of his teammates in a maid costume. However, he swallowed down the shame and arched against his captor’s touch. 

 

Peter felt his dress get lifted up. A hand tugged at his panties and pulled them to his ankles. Peter gulped and closed his eyes. He’d never fingered himself before, and the experience was completely unknown to him. 

 

Peter shifted and arched his back so Tony could get a better angle. He was preparing for the opening of a cap, or a gentle finger, or something. He was prepared to finally get be touched. 

 

Well, he got touched alright. 

 

Tony brought down a sharp palm against his ass, and Peter was sent reeling. “M-Mr. Sta—“ he started to ask, but another slap slapped him out of his thoughts. “Mr. Stark?” He tried again. 

 

“If it’s not an apology, I don’t want to hear it.” Tony slapped again, harder this time. 

 

“But… I…” Peter started, and the slaps got harder. 

 

“You really don’t know how to listen, do you?” Tony asked. Peter let out a squeak and buried his face into the armrest. A sudden hand in his hair tugged his face away from his refuge. 

 

_ Those fucking abnormally large Captain America hands. Fuck.  _

 

His eyes flashed a disappointing baby blue that left Peter feeling even more guilty. What did he do, again?

 

“Naughty boys don’t get to be shy,” he repeated, and Peter tried to look away, but Steve held him tight. His own eyes teared up, not so much from the pain but the utter shame he felt. 

 

“I’m not…” he struggled, “naughty.” 

 

“Good boys don’t get spankings,” tony said, and the mere word sent a scarlet red blush to spread across his face. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Peter mumbled. “I just…” 

 

“You just what? Thought you could get your way, as if you have control here? I’m going easy on you, since this is new for you, but you really should know better.” 

 

“Easy?” Peter exclaimed. “This is you going easy?” 

 

“Baby boy, we’re just getting started.” 

 

Peter fell limp in his lap at that and let the spanking go on. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited it to finish, but it just… wasn’t. 

 

Oh.

 

And Peter thought he was a genius. 

 

Peter tried to clear his throat as much as he could, so the others couldn’t tell how much distress he was in just by being put over his lap. “S-Sir,” he cried out, and now that he didn’t have his lips closed, he couldn’t help the whimpers spilling out. “I’m sorry. I’m  _ so  _ sorry.” 

 

“It’s our job to tease you,” Tony said, spanking in the same spot multiple times. “Not yours. Got that?” 

 

“Yes, yes, sir,” he said, nodding frantically. “I promise I’ll be a good boy.” 

 

And then it was over. Peter relaxed. He rubbed at his eyes and was incredibly thankful he didn’t break into open sobs (even though he really felt like it). 

 

His dress was pulled back down, but the panties around his ankles were slipped off. Steve helped him sit up.

 

Peter moved to sit next to Tony on the recliner. However, he’d just sat down when his ass  _ burned  _ upon contact. He let out a small yelp before jumping back on top of Tony. An embarrassing position, yes, but Peter was dying for the comfort. Steve took Peter’s spot next to Tony on the couch. 

 

Peter dared then to cast his eyes towards the rest of the room. The others were staring at him, as if they could see right through him. They probably could. 

 

Shame burned at his cheeks and he turned back to Tony. Tony lazily ribbed circles into the boy, who was shaking even more than before. Desperate to get out of here, somewhere where he wasn’t being stared at, he squirmed and asked, “Shall I clean up the kitchen for you?” 

 

Tony grinned. “I think you’re fine just where you are, sweetheart.” 

 

_ He knows. He’s doing this to torture me, and he’s loving it.  _

 

“Right, sir.” 

 

_ Why do I love it too?  _

 

They started a movie, but Peter wasn’t too interested. For one, he wasn’t even facing the television. 

 

The lights dimmed, everyone settled down. Peter blinked. Tony stared straight past him at the television. Peter let out a loud huff, too uncomfortable to even think about relaxing. It doesn’t help his ass stings, and Tony isn’t helping anything. 

 

“Am I boring you, Webs? ‘Cause I have some other ideas for you, if you are.” 

 

Peter flinched. “Peter.” 

 

“What?” 

 

The movie started in the background. Peter shifted and winced at the pain. “My name is Peter.” 

 

“Peter,” Tony said, testing it out, “When I ask you a question, you answer it.” Tony gave a harsh smack to Peter’s thigh, sending him in the air. 

 

“No, sir, not bored,” he said quickly. 

 

“Then why can’t you sit still?” Tony grumbled. 

 

“Sorry, sir,” Peter apologized. 

 

“I didn’t ask for an apology. I asked for an answer.” 

 

“Everyone’s staring at me,” Peter confessed. 

 

“Oh, baby boy, isn’t that what you wanted?” Tony hummed, playing with the frills of his dress. “Actions have consequences. Don’t you know that by now?” 

 

“I wanted you to touch me,” Peter whined. After a heartbeat, he added a panicked, “Sir.” 

 

“I did touch you,” Tony said, raising an eyebrow. “Was it not enough? Poor thing, do you need some more?” 

 

The fake concern did nothing to help with his melting feeling. “No, thank you, sir,” Peter said, hanging his head. 

 

“Really? Because, I think—“ 

 

“We’re trying to watch a movie,” Sam complained loudly. “As enjoyable as that seems, I want to actually watch the movie.” 

 

“Movie can wait, Wilson,” Bucky said with heart eyes. “Kid’s in a maid outfit with a bruised ass and no panties.” 

 

“I hate that word,” Peter pouted. “Panties.” He scrunched up his nose. 

 

“Speaking of which, you’re not getting those back until you learn how to behave.” 

 

Peter resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “That’s fine; I wasn’t planning on wearing lace undies to school everyday.” 

 

“Oh, no,” Tony said, cupping his cheek. “No underwear. Of any kind.” 

 

Peter’s cock, which was currently trapped against Tony’s jeans, gave a twitch. 

 

Peter let out a sigh. “Yes, sir.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y’all, smut isn’t my usual thing idk if u can tell 😭 this chapter is painfully long (that’s what she said) 
> 
> I make way too many sex jokes,,,,,, my bad,,,, I just think I’m funny 
> 
> um, but thanks for y’all’s support!!! i hope y’all enjoyed,,,,,,, i did my best ok,,, comment/kudos if u liked :))


	3. pham - movements

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, ACTUAL smut,,,,, kinks in this chapter: edging (kinda ig), teasing (alot), um this is op's first shot at writing hj's so hope yall liked, oh and biting that's there

Peter hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep. Sometime during the movie, his exhaustion took over and he slumped against his boss’s chest. 

 

Peter doesn’t get much sleep, not with how much he’s overworked. Between stressing about school, May, work, and other daily life shit, he’s been stretched thin. Usually falling asleep doesn’t come easy to him, but the Avengers constantly teasing him has brought him past his breaking point. 

 

He might’ve looked peaceful — his chest rising and falling in tune with Tony’s, his eyes fluttered shut, and the tight grip he has on his pant leg — if it wasn’t for his constant writhing and the occasional twist in his face. 

 

“That’s such a twink name. Peter,” Sam said. “He seems like a Peter.” 

 

“Does he?” Tony hummed, distracted by the boy. 

 

“What, you don’t think so?” Bruce asked, pausing the movie’s credits. “I think it suits him.”

 

“I knew his name from the start.” Tony raises an eyebrow at the shocked looks thrown his way. “You think I wouldn’t scan him? Really?” He rolled his eyes. 

 

“That’s an invasion of privacy,” Natasha said. 

 

“It’s not my fault. His body was already scanned by Friday previously because his civilian self sauntered in here a while back. Friday didn’t know better than to tell me.” 

 

“So… you know him? What he really looks like?” Steve asked. 

 

“I do,” Tony confirmed. 

 

Steve lit up before stopping himself. “What does he look like?” 

 

“Like the kind of kid who’d look perfect in a schoolgirl outfit,” Tony replies, grinning. 

 

As if on cue, Peter writhed again, bringing himself down against Tony’s thigh. He let out a weak moan before continuing his pitiful movements. 

 

“Aren’t you going to stop him?” Sam asked. “He’s… you know.” 

 

“It’s just a dream; don’t go too hard on him,” Steve said. 

 

“I’ll stop him,” Tony said, bringing his hand down to lightly trace the skin around his cock. “Just not yet.” 

 

Peter let out another weak moan in his sleep. His chest started to hitch more rapidly than before, and Tony knew he was going to have to snatch him off. 

 

Just… not yet. There was something too captivating at this boy, who was so desperate his subconscious has resorted to grinding against whatever he can in his sleep. 

 

Peter squeaked. His back started to arch, but Tony was fast. He pulled the boy off of his thigh and put him on his back. At the movement, Peter began to stir. He woke up with a bewildered look across his face. “Wha…?” He blinked slowly before looking down at the precome dripping down his thigh. 

 

Peter’s blush spread to his ears. Peter nervously looked to his panties (he still hates that word), which Mr. Stark was twirling around on his finger. “I thought you were going to be good, Peter.” 

 

“I will be, I am, I just… I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry, Mr. Stark.” Tony’s hands roamed his body and stopped at his lower back. Peter froze. “Please, sir, I didn’t…” 

 

“What’s rule #1?” Tony asked. 

 

Peter wasn’t stupid. He didn’t take AP physics in highschool for nothing. 

 

“Don’t come without permission,” he recited. 

 

“Are you going to have trouble following that rule?” 

 

“No, sir.” 

 

He probably should’ve told the truth. It would’ve been one of those smart boy decisions, but he didn’t. He chose to lie. 

 

He couldn’t help but think back to Steve’s haunting words about lying. He shivered and tried to forget. 

 

“Good,” Tony said. “You’ve been punished already, sweetheart. What’re you looking so guilty for?” 

 

Even with half of Peter’s face covered, he’s a complete open book to the others. “Nothing,” he lied. Tony raised an eyebrow, and Peter melted. “Sir, I haven’t been entirely honest with you…” 

 

“Oh?” Tony prompted, already knowing where he was going. However, if Peter revealed his face now… That’d just be a disappointment. “Relax, Peter. You don’t have to do or say anything you don’t want to.” 

 

Peter bit his lip because, yeah, he kinda did want to reveal his face. He wanted them to be able to trust him the same way he trusted them. 

 

“How about you go get washed up?” Tony suggested. “It’s getting late, and you’re exhausted.” 

 

“The dishes—“ 

 

“Can wait until morning,” Tony finished. “Go. Don’t make me tell you again.” 

 

Peter climbed off his lap and gave a sleepy nod. “Yes, sir.” He turned to the others. “Good night, everyone.” 

 

***

“Friday, what the hell is that?” 

 

Hanging on his doorframe was another costume, except this one wasn’t his. A cherry red maid costume hung in front of him. 

 

“A gift from Mr. Stark,” she replied cheerfully. “He’s left a list of chores for you, and he’s requested you wear his gift.” 

 

“Requested?” he scoffed, climbing off his bed. Usually he’d sleep in boxers, but now that all boxers are banned, he’s naked. Completely. He rips the outfit off the hangar with a groan. 

 

“Yes, request,” Friday confirmed. 

 

“If I decline?” 

 

“Boss did not say, but I would not advise ignoring his orders.” 

 

The damn computer was right. 

 

Peter slipped it over his head and slowly buttoned it up. He waddled in front of his mirror to observe just how ridiculous he looked. 

 

Not only was it a bright red — it was the iconic, Iron Man red. A mask was left for him, as well, a gold and red colored thing. Peter had to give it to him; a lot of thought had to go into this thing. 

 

Peter stumbles out into the compound to begin his daily duties. First, he finishes the dishes from yesterday, then he begins reorganizing the cabinet (as it was a complete mess), cleans up a lab explosion. 

 

By the time he’s done with his list, it’s 11am. 

 

Peter doesn’t bother taking a break, despite his hectic morning of cleaning. He paces down to the first thing he can think of. 

 

“Hello? Is someone in here?” Peter knocks on the door. He waits for a response, but after waiting, he decides to go ahead and step inside. “Holy…” Peter drops the cleaning basket in his hand. 

 

The lights are out. Peter tries to turn on the lights, but it’s no use. The shards of glass in the middle of the room stop him short of trying. The room is in complete shambles — dirty clothes litters the floor, broken glass, arrows, knocked over bookshelves, etc. 

 

It’s disgusting. 

 

“It’s okay,” he whispered to himself. “This is fine.” He pulls out the rubber gloves from his basket and slips it over his fingers. He leaned down to pick up the glass and carefully discard it into a trash bag. 

 

“He’s dressing you up like a doll.” 

 

Peter’s Spidey Sense has been complete silent. Nothing warned him of Clint’s presence, so he flinched and cut his pointer finger on the glass. “Shit,” he cursed, slipping off the glove. 

 

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” Clint said, dropping down from his perch from… where? Exactly? “You alright?” 

 

Blood trickles from his finger. “I’m okay,” he replied. “We’re superheroes, you know. A little glass isn’t going to kill me.” 

 

Clint grabbed his hand suddenly and prodded at the skin. “That’ll get infected.” He threw some clothes around on the floor to retrieve some hydrogen peroxide. He opened the cap and began to tip it, but Peter frowned. 

 

“That’s okay,” he said quickly, moving his hand out of his grip. 

 

“You talking back?” he asked harshly. 

 

“Oh, no, no, sir,” he said, ass still sore from yesterday. He handed his hand back to Clint obediently. 

 

“Relax,” he said, careful pouring it over the cut. Clint fished around his drawers for a bandaid and wrapped it around his finger. “All better.” 

 

“Thank you.” Peter looked him over. “So you have me to do whatever you please, and you choose to boss me into bandaging my finger?” 

 

“I can do anything I want with you,” he said simply. “Also, you’re my designated gaming body.” He shrugged. 

 

Peter smiled. “I could also clean your room?” 

 

“No, I like it the way it is.” 

 

“Organized chaos,” he mused. “I like it.” 

 

Peter’s phone’s alarm went off in his pocket, and he flinched as he stood up. “I have work; I’ve got to go—“ 

 

“Bye, Peter.” 

 

It’s kind of funny to think about. Peter’s two jobs are in the same exact building (albeit ¼ a mile apart) to the same exact employer. 

 

Peter changes into jeans and a button up, which feels a little odd with the no underwear thing going on. 

 

Even though it’s a short distance, he still climbs on top of his red bike to reach the rest of the compound. It helps to avoid the suspicion, after all. He locks his bike against a pole. 

 

“Not late, not late,” he mumbles, rushing into the building. He greets the receptionist with a kind hello, slips his coat off of the coat, and heads into the lab. 

 

His co-worker Arya smacks him on the shoulder upon entrance. “Dude, you’re late,” she hisses. 

 

“Actually, no,” he said, looking at his phone and seeing it was 2:31. “Damn.” 

 

“If you’re not early, you’re late,” she hisses, pulling him deeper into the lab. “Guess who’s here?” 

 

“Don’t tell me it’s Glenn,” he said, already sighing. “He always knocks over my samples, man…” 

 

He’s pushed into the lab where the other interns are gathered around a figure whose back is turned. “Look!” 

 

The figure slowly turns, and it’s as if among the crowd, he chooses Peter to look at. Dead in the eyes. 

 

Anthony Stark. 

 

He’ll be damned. 

 

“After observing this group throughout the day, I will choose one of you to assist me on a personal case. Sound good? Great. Have at it.” Whatever speech he’d been giving was over now. All the interns scurried to their stations to continue their assignments. 

 

Peter does what he can to avoid the man. He is a genius, after all, and he’s not going to risk him recognizing him. 

 

He’s hoping he can dodge all contact with the man, but of course him having Parker luck and all leaves him with his idol and boss (is that the proper word for the man who pays you so he can fuck with you 24/7?) hovering over his shoulder. 

 

“And what’s this, Parker?” he practically purrs. 

 

“It’s a prosthetic tongue,” he replies. Tony leans over and flips the pages of his holobook. He remains silent as he reads each and every word he wrote. Peter doesn’t breathe the whole time. 

 

“Interesting,” he says finally, and then he  _ leaves.  _

 

Peter spins in his chair to stare after Tony. Arya wheels her chair next to him. “Isn’t he hot?” She hisses. 

 

_ You don’t know the half of it.  _

 

“That’s our boss, Arya. Gross,” he mumbled, shrugging her off. 

 

She bites the top of her pen. “You kidding me? You’ve never, ever thought about him while you—“ 

 

“Arya, stop!” he hushed. “I don’t know you near enough to talk with you about that.” 

 

She grins. “So… you do think about him while jerking it?” 

 

_ Actually, the man himself is the one who forbids me from jerking it,  _ he thinks to himself but settles for an eye roll instead. 

 

“I’d treat him real good,” she promises, tilting her head back. 

 

He shivers. He crosses his right leg over his left. “That’s unbecoming,” he says. “Stop.” 

 

“What do you think about?” She asked. “Let me guess — you’re into something dark, right? You got that look in your eyes. I can tell.” 

 

“Stop,” he growled. 

 

“It’s completely normal—,” fuck, “a lot of people dream about me. I’d prefer you  _ not  _ to do it while working, though.” 

 

There in the flesh was Tony Stark right behind them. He didn’t have a doubt in the world he’d heard every word. 

 

“Yes, sir,” he said, pushing Arya and letting her chair roll her away. 

 

He tried his absolute damnest to focus on his work that day, but he couldn’t help but stop at the intense gaze of his idol behind him. It was exhausting. 

 

Finally, the day ended, and he got up to leave. “I’ll see you later.” He slipped off his coat and hung it up on the rack. 

 

“Hold on a second there, Mr. Parker.” Peter froze still, wincing, praying and hoping to God and asking her what the hell he did to deserve this torture. The added “mr. parker” only did more to torture him — it was obvious payback from the man himself. 

 

“Yes, sir?” he asked, exhausted. Inside his pocket, he crossed his fingers. 

 

_ I’m a good person, really. I don’t deserve this.  _

 

“I’m impressed with your work,” Mr. Stark said, leaning in close. “I think you could do great things under guidance — my guidance, to be specific.” 

 

“Thanks.” A month ago, Peter would be shit his pants if Mr. Stark had said that to him. Now? All he feels is dread. 

 

_ He’s screwing with me. He knows. He knows. He has to.  _

 

_ “ _ Report to my office. Have Happy show you up.” 

 

And just like that, Peter knew he was doomed. 

 

“He looks like he’s going to tear you to pieces,” Arya sighs dreamily. “I’m so jealous.” 

 

He shoved her hand off his shoulder and left the building, only to start heading towards his other job, where he was only going to get tortured even more. He slipped into his bedroom through his balcony window, which was installed just for him when he was swinging by on patrols. 

 

He strips out of his lab gear. He leaves his pants on the ground and trails to his closet, where all his clothes were just… gone. “Friday, where’d my clothes go?” he asked, observing his room for anything else that might’ve been stolen. “Was there a robbery?” 

 

“A courtesy of Mr. Stark. He thought you needed a wardrobe change.” 

 

His closet was full of dresses (not all maid, however), a few shirts, and some pants. He immediately ripped the pants off its hangar to find red sweatpants that read “Stark property” across the ass. He settles for half-face Iron Man toy mask. 

 

It was better than a maid outfit, at least. Peter slipped on a black, fitted under armor tee and tucked it into his pants. 

 

“Hi, everyone,” Peter chirps, walking into the living room where everyone is seated around the television. “Is this all you ever do?” He sets a hand on top of the couch to stable himself as he jumps over and lands in a spot next to Bucky and Steve. “Watch  _ Friends  _ without me?” 

 

“You’ve already seen these,” Sam says. 

 

Peter takes one look at the television. “Oh, but I love this episode!” 

 

Sam grins and holds an empty popcorn bucket. Peter sighs and climbs out of his seat to grab the bucket from him. 

 

“What in the name of fuck,” Bucky seethed. “What the hell, Stark?” 

 

“What, you don’t like his outfit?” Tony asked, playing innocent. 

 

Bucky stalked up to Peter, who slowly spun on his heels to go face-to-face with the supersoldier. Except, it was more face to chest, as he was a couple inches taller than him, even more so than usual with his platform shoes. 

 

As slow as he had turned around, Bucky twirled him around again. He tugged a finger into the waistband of his sweatpants and pulled him close. “Where do you get off making him wear this?” he growls. 

 

“He has a  _ stocked  _ closet, and he chose to wear those,” he said, simply shrugging without a care in the world. “I didn’t force him to wear anything.” 

 

_ There’s two sides to every story,  _ Peter thinks bitterly, but he doesn’t dare say it aloud. 

 

“Thank you,” Peter says, sighing dramatically out of relief. “I thought these pants were kind of silly. I mean, ‘property’? What’s up with that?” He laughs, but no one else is laughing. “That’s… weird, right?” 

 

Bucky tugged on his waistband again and pulled him close against his chest. His flesh hand pulled on the drawstring and snaked its way inside. Peter went stiff against his chest. “Stark Property,” Bucky muttered. “Last time I checked, he’s ours to  _ share. _ ” 

 

“Actually, I’m a human being,” was what Peter  _ wanted  _ to say. What he actually said? Nothing more than a small gasp. 

 

Peter’d managed to distract himself from the sheer hornieness that came from simply not masturbating. He really didn’t need to that often; maybe if he woke up with morning wood, or every so couple of weeks. 

 

However, there’s that thing where as soon as you can’t have something, you want it so much more. Plus, he’s surrounded by the Earth’s hottest and mightiest heroes. Can you really blame him? 

 

He’s been on edge forever, and now here he is, talking about as if he’s an object, and one of his bosses has a hand down his pants. 

 

It’s infuriating, to say the least. 

 

“You don’t get to keep him for yourself, Tony,” Steve said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

 

“Yeah, Tony,” Sam said. 

 

“Okay, fine, I’ll change it to ‘Avengers Property’? That better?” Tony huffed, giving in. 

 

Bucky hummed, practically into Peter’s ear. “Do they not teach you how to share in genius school?” 

 

“I found him first,” he argued. 

 

Peter let out an annoyed groan. “He’s mine tonight, Stark.” 

 

Bucky pulled his hand out of his pants and wrapped a tight arm around his waist. He fell back upon the couch with Peter’s back to his chest. 

 

Bucky rested his chin on Peter’s shoulder and reached back into his pants. His flesh hand brushed against the head of his cock, and Peter stiffened against him. “Relax,” Bucky consoled, but his silky voice only did more to stir Peter. 

 

_ He’s so hot; fuck me,  _ he thought. 

 

“Not yet.” A soft chuckle in his ear. 

 

_ Did I  _ really  _ say that aloud? You kidding me? _

 

Bucky cupped his hand, wrapping his warmth all around his cock. He didn’t move his hand yet, much to Peter’s dismay. He seemed perfectly content with rubbing his thumb against the head. 

 

Peter was painfully aware of the pressure digging into his shoulder, the cool breath on his neck making him shiver with excitement, the metal hand at his waist to keep him steady, and the teasing hand around his cock. 

 

Peter made a small thrust into his hand, and all pressure went away. “Wha—?” he asked. 

 

“You take what we give you, and nothing else.” 

 

Peter nodded frantically. “Yes, sir.” 

 

“Relax, Peter.” That was Steve now. 

 

Oh, that’s right. Peter’s getting a handjob from the Winter Soldier, an assassin who’s killed many (possible past American presidents), in a room full of the Avengers, that team that Peter’s looked up to since he was a young boy. 

 

A typical Monday. 

 

How could Peter relax when he’s in a room with all of them there, watching? 

 

Easy answer: he can’t. 

 

Peter risked looking up at the others, who all seemingly had an eye on him. There were a few who took to the kitchen, Natasha and Bruce. Clint was there, too, but he was already changing the television to his channel to play a video game with the volume on low. He still looked over every so often; they made eye contact a few times, and everytime Clint kept it until Peter couldn’t take it and looked away. 

 

Steve was watching him closely. He’s pretty sure they had a thing in the past (maybe still do?). He probably knows what it’s like to be shaking under his touch. Or, maybe, he has Bucky shaking under  _ his  _ touch. 

 

Peter’s been thinking about that way too hard because before he knows it, the warm hand is back, and he’s doing everything in his power not to thrust into it. 

 

Bucky Barnes is a rough man. Messy, unkept black hair, calluses cover his hands, has a strong, stereotypical “man” smell (the actual embodiment of an Old Spice commercial), and a husky voice to top it all off. Not to mention the metal arm and the gaping muscles? Thick thighs? Everything about him is rough. 

 

This soft, teasing touch wasn’t what he expected. Those calloused hands were nothing but gentle when they prodded at his dick. 

 

It felt  _ insanely  _ good. 

 

Peter managed to stay quiet aside from his breathing. 

 

He was too busy repeating “don’t move” over and over again. 

 

All he’d done is slowly, meticulously trace his thumb over the head, and yet, he could feel it building in his abdomen. 

 

Rule number 1. Don’t come without permission. 

 

Thankfully for Peter, Bucky is a practiced man (the military specializes in the art of circle jerks and brojobs) and senses he’s close because the hand goes still. 

 

“Sergeant Barnes?” Peter asked, a little loopy, a little high on the feel-good endorphins running through his body. 

 

“Yeah?” Bucky asked, placing his hand on his thigh. 

 

Peter wasn’t preparing for this far. “Um,” he started, but he didn’t know where to go with it. “Please.” 

 

“Oh, are you not in the mood? My bad.” His hand started to slip out, and Peter grabbed it. 

 

“Please,” he whined again. “I am; I am.” 

 

Bucky’s hand returned. It wrapped loosely around again, but this time, he slowly, very, very  _ slowly  _ moved his hand down. Peter practically jumped up, and he froze out of fear Bucky was going to stop. Bucky didn’t, though. Peter went still as much as he could while Bucky slowly jacked him off in a such a loose grip that it could barely even be classified as a handjob. 

 

Peter felt himself coming close again, that same heat building hot deep inside of him. He tilted his head back. With a toe curl, he wound his eyes shut as he prepared for the waves of pleasure. 

 

They didn’t come, and neither did he. 

 

Peter actually whined this time, a soft noise escaping his lips. He cringes as soon as he does and wraps too-late hands over his mouth. 

 

Bucky laughs, a low rumble in his ears, a sadistic laugh from his aching, burning need, and god, why does that turn him on even more? 

 

He looks up to Steve for help but instead finds a lust-ridden face. Steve offers a soft smile. 

 

He looks to Tony next. His knuckles are white from gripping the armrest of his recliner way too hard. He’s biting his lip (not to hold in a moan like Peter) out of anger and stomping his foot against the ground frantically. He looks seconds away from a murderous rampage. 

 

Peter doesn’t find any solace in that. 

 

He looks to Bucky, then, maybe to appeal to him, make him come to his senses. He rolls his head over, mere inches away from the side of Bucky’s face. He wants to open his mouth, but he’s terrified of what’s going to come out. 

 

Bucky’s metal hand wraps around Peter’s wrist, and he pulls down harshly. “Feel good, Peter?” 

 

“Ngh, no sir, ah—“ Peter stammered. The hand returned, and his hands again shot up to cover his mouth. 

 

“Do I need to cuff you?” Peter shook his head frantically. “We own you, we own your body, we own any and all moans coming out of your mouth. Understand?” Peter nodded. “Verbal answer. I want to hear you.” The flesh hand yanked at his hair, pulling his head further back into Bucky’s shoulder. 

 

“Yes, sir!” he cried, leaning into the touch. 

 

Bucky bit down suddenly without any warning at all. It wasn’t hard, just… there. He sucked hard enough that Peter was sure it was gonna leave a mark. “Better than tacky Sweatpants, huh? This gets the point across  _ way  _ better. Don’t you agree, Peter?” 

 

Peter almost forgot to reply. A slightly tougher bite in the nape of his neck reminded him. “Yes, sir!”

 

All Bucky had to do was brush his fingers against his cock for him to get close  _ again.  _ Tighter, he slowly went up and down, up and down, without a care in the world. 

 

“Fuck, please,” Peter cried, feeling himself getting close. “Sergeant, oh, god, I need it.” 

 

“Need? You don’t  _ need  _ anything. We take good care of you,” Bucky said, deciding Peter’s feelings for him. “You don’t get to pick when you get fucked. 

 

“I’m your fuck slave! Just, fuck me up a little!” Peter cried, losing any composure he might have had. Bucky’s hand tightens, too much for it to be pleasurable. 

 

“You’re going to be sorry you said that.” 

 

Peter wasn’t feeling too sorry. His hand picked up the speed, going faster than before, actually moving, maybe an even normal speed. Peter keened, a high pitched sound he couldn’t help but make. 

 

_ This is it. Finally, god,  _ he thinks. 

 

He thinks he’s going to let him come, but he stops. 

 

He’s lost count of how many times he’s gotten close. 

 

The heat is unbearable. He thought it was bad before, but now it’s all over his body. He feels heat even where the cold metal presses against stomach. 

 

He’s on fire. 

 

Peter’s panting, soft and light. He’s getting drunk off the pleasure. 

 

The hand starts moving after he just started to calm down. Slow, again, barely moving. He gets close. Bucky stops. 

 

It’s a cycle he’s starting. He pumps his dick fast. Peter gets close. He stops. Peter gets his breathing (almost) under control, and he starts again. He goes slow, loose, barely moving. Sometimes he keeps to the head or the base, sometimes just brushing against his balls. Peter gets close, and he  _ stops.  _

 

He does this  _ over  _ and  _ over  _ and  _ over  _ again, and he shows no sign of stopping. 

 

“Holy fuck!” Peter shouts far into the torture. He doesn’t know how long it’s been (time is an illusion, anyways) since this has started, but he’s ready for it to be over. He was ready to come yesterday. “Sergeant Barnes, please, please, please.” Like a broken record, he couldn’t stop. 

 

“Okay,” he says. 

 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” he repeats, closing his eyes again. He waits for it, but he’s denied again. The hand furiously pumping stops. He ties the waistband back, making sure to keep the friction to a minimum against his aching cock. “What? Why’d you stop?” 

 

“You were begging me to stop. I’m doing you a favor; least you could do was say ‘thank you.’” 

 

Peter’s cock was red, maybe even a little blue, and aching inside his sweatpants. His knuckles were white, arguably more than Tony’s. His eyes had gone wet, not quite crying, but definitely wet. If he had been wearing underwear, they would’ve been soaked with precome. His mouth is stuck, as if the only thing he knows how to say is broken moans. And, yet, he expects him to say thanks? 

 

“Thank you, sir,” Peter says, trying not to break down into pieces. 

 

He takes a cold shower that night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this on an airplane next to my family,,,,,,,, for those of you wondering why this chapter took so long? that's why. 
> 
> hope u guys enjoyed!! y'all are so sweet in the comments, and i really appreciate it bc this really isnt my usual type of fic so i hope u liked! (i'll try to update more than once a week, but the time depends on whenever i finally feel like a chapter has actual good content (trust me, if i released it sooner, it wouldn't have been any type of enjoyable). 
> 
> also, idk if anyone really likes peter/bucky, but i just think it's really HOT. oh and peter/bucky happened bc plot reasons,,, maybe jealous! tony reasons,,, there's gonna be alot of starker in here... 
> 
> ((THIS IS A REALLY LONG NOTE BUT IF U WANNA YELL AT ME FOR NOT UPDATING, SEND HATE MAIL TO @/softdadironman I DONT CHECK AO3 THAT OFTEN BUT I GET NOTIFS FROM IG SOOOOO HMU))
> 
> if anyone has any other ships they'd like to see, maybe suggest it? i make NO promises, but if i see a request that I like,,,, might take it into consideration??? maybe??? depends?? 
> 
> ok real long note but um buy guys love u, hope this wasnt bad bc i worked really hard on it (smut is really hard to write ok, especially,,,, on family vacations)


	4. your woman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinks in this chappie: edging, post orgasm torture, overstimulation, begging (and a lot of it) 
> 
> ***note: peter has a safeword and can use it, he just doesn't bc he likes IT. everything is consensual!!

“Good morning, Mr. Stark,” Peter greets, slipping on his lab coat as he steps into the lab. Today, he wears his baggiest pair of black jeans, anything to keep friction off his neglected cock, and a oversized high neck, gray sweater. 

 

He’s come full circle, hasn’t he? 

 

He stands in Tony’s chaotic lab and watches as his boss slips off a pair of goggles. Dirt smudges the sides of his face. “Ah, Peter, you’re early,” he says, beckoning him with his hand. “I already started without you.” 

 

“I’m your assistant, Mr. Stark. You don’t have to wait on me,” he replies, stepping behind him. He’s careful to leave a moderate amount of space between them. Just yesterday the man was turning red in the face from sheer jealousy alone. He’s pretty sure Tony’s on to him about his identity, but he can never read the genius’s face. He gave up a while ago. 

 

“Anyways, I need a second pair of eyes,” he said, swiping his hands to pull up bullprints. “Take a look.” 

 

The blueprints are a little hard to read, but from what he can make out, he’s building a torture chamber. “I don’t know if I should have the clearance to be seeing this,” he says at last.  _ He’s showing this to me because he thinks I’m Spiderman. Wait, knows. He knows.  _ “I’m just an intern. A little above my pay grade to see a torture chamber for supervillains? I’m just Peter Parker, I don’t know anything about that kind of thing.” 

 

“Peter,” he says, finally interrupting his constant ramble. The more Peter talked, the more he made things worse for himself. “This isn’t for supervillains.” Peter squinted at the blue print. “It’s for Spiderman.” 

 

“Who?” Peter asked, tilting his head to the side. Tony raised an amused eyebrow. “Oh, that menace JJJ is always talking about! Yeah, he’s bad news. But, um, I thought you got along with him. Why are you building him a torture chamber?” 

 

“For pleasure,” he replies simply. 

 

Peter read through one of the bottom paragraphs. He saw the words “cock” and “cage” and he went pale. “That doesn’t sound very pleasurable.” 

 

“I didn’t say  _ his  _ pleasure,” Tony said, smirking. 

 

Peter’s heart caught in his throat. “Oh,” was all he managed. 

 

“So, what do you think? You’re a bright kid. And I heard you and that girl talking, you’re kinkier than you look, aren’t you?” Peter was at a loss. “Thoughts? Questions? Comments? Concerns?” 

 

“Is any of this sane?” He asked, rubbing his temple. “Or safe, for that matter? I mean, it sounds pretty painful.” 

 

“He consented to it,” he said. “And of course it’s safe, I’d never hurt him.” He paused. “Well. You know what I mean.” 

 

“I really don’t, sir,” he replied flatly. 

 

Tony just waved him off. “That’s your homework for tonight. I want some ideas, something that’ll actually make his brain melt.” 

 

There really was no winning here. 

 

He knew Tony had to be on to him. There is no other explanation for this assignment. 

 

When Peter gets home, he falls asleep right away. In his world, though, sleep is something of a rare occurrence. His alarm goes off just minutes later, someone on the team summoning him. 

 

He sits up in bed, still wearing his lab clothes, and quickly moves to change. He slips off the jeans and his sweater for a quick change. He walked over to his bed where an outfit was already laid out for him. “Oh, sweet!” He said, picking up a pair of black underwear. It’s been  _ so  _ long since he’s had proper underwear, so when he feels something in the boxers, he doesn’t question it. At least it’s  _ guy  _ underwear. 

 

Peter slips on a pair of jeans and a Star Wars shirt. He makes his merry way down into the living room. “What’s got you in such a good mood?” Natasha asked, sipping her tea. 

 

“You got Stark’s present, didn’t you?” Steve asked, grinning. 

 

Peter walked to steal an empty seat on the couch, but Tony stopped him. “Here, Peter.” Peter pulled to a stop in front of him. Tony leaned forward in his chair before bringing Peter harshly down. “You like it?” 

 

“I do. Thank you, Mr. Stark,” he said. Tony laughed, and Peter didn’t have the balls to ask why. “Is there anything you’d like for me to do this afternoon?” Silently begging for anything sexual  _ at all,  _ he was disappointed when Tony pointed towards the kitchen. “Right away, sir.” 

 

He quickly made his way to do the dishes. Sam was there, though, scrubbing at a bowl. “Oh, I can do that, Mr. Wilson,” he said, reaching to grab the bowl. Sam handed it off to him, but before Peter could get a grab on it, a sudden vibration brushed against the bottom of his cock, and he dropped the bowl. 

 

It took Peter half a second to realize he was in deep shit. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he cried, falling to his knees. He started picking up the bowl, but he was shaking too much. 

 

“Are you okay?” Sam asked, concern laced in his voice. 

 

Tony stomped into the kitchen. Peter looked up to apologize, but he was already pressing the top of his boot into his crotch. Peter leaned into the contact pitifully. “Do I need to punish you again?” 

 

“No, sir,” he said quickly. Tony gave him a look that clearly read “don’t test me” before removing his foot. As he walked off, he heard Peter mutter, “I’m already being punished.” 

 

“I thought you liked my gift,” Tony said, feigning hurt. “Is it… not enough for you?”

 

“Wait, sir—” The vibration kicked up, and Peter hunched over.

 

After last night, he’d tried everything to distract him from the temptation. 

 

He had once chance of ending his misery, and he pretty much shot that to hell. 

 

Good going, Peter! Sexual frustration is a great look for you. 

 

“Sir, please,” Peter begged, closing his eyes. He couldn’t bare to watch his cock harden under his jeans. The vibrations had only been on for a couple seconds, and he’s already had enough. 

 

“What, you want  _ more _ ?” Tony asked, upping the remote to the highest setting. “You’re really spoiled.” 

 

“Mr. Stark,” he whined as he was dragged into the living room by his hand. Sam finished throwing away the pieces of the bowl as Peter was thrown into the floor by Tony’s recliner. 

 

Steve and Bucky, who were previously chilling on the couch, paused their conversations to watch. It was like a free porn show; it’d be more weird if they  _ didn’t  _ watch. 

 

The vibrations continued, and Peter felt like he was choking. “Ah, ah, Mr. Stark!” he yelped suddenly, resisting the urge to rut against his leg. “Please, please, turn it off.” 

 

To his surprise, it did. Peter sighed out of relief (not that much relief) and collapsed against the recliner. Panting, he tried to regain his breath until he felt hands dig under his armpits and yank him up. Steve dropped him directly on top of Tony’s lap. “I’ve spoiled you too much, haven’t I?” 

 

Shaking like a leaf, Peter latched on to Tony’s suit. “All this time, and you’re still not smart enough to beg,” Bucky said, cupping his mouth. “Ask, Peter. Articulate.” 

 

“Aren’t you supposed to be a genius?” Tony asked, grabbing a fistful of hair around the mask. “Beg, baby boy.” 

 

“Please,” Peter repeated. 

 

“You’re going to have to be a lot more specific,” Tony said. “I’m not so sure what you could be asking for.” He snuck a hand into his pocket and pulled out the remote. 

 

Peter instantly reached for it to knock it out of his hand. Without thinking, he cried, “No! No, sir!” Tony raised his eyebrows. 

 

“You really are spoiled,” he said, upping the remote to the lowest setting. 

 

Peter, feeling close, stood on his knees, anything to get away from the friction against Tony’s lap. “Mr. Stark, please turn it off.” 

 

He did. “Good boy,” Tony praised, ruffling his hair. “You’re learning.” Peter was doing his best to keep from coming. Really, there’d barely been much other than a constant vibration to the bottom of his cock, but that was more than enough apparently. Oh, also Tony’s a sex god with a lustrous voice that keeps him awake at night. That too. “I’m starting to think I have a lot of teaching to do.” Tony grabs the bottom of his shirt and slips it off of him. Peter, looking away, doesn’t expect Tony’s hands to trail up his chest and squeeze his nipple. “You’re spoiled and impatient but at least you listen.” 

 

The only friction on his cock was the underwear and the jeans. 

 

However, that didn’t stop him from balling the suit in his hands and burying his face into Tony’s neck. He let out a muffled cry as a pleasureless orgasm rolled over him. “And here I was… praising you,” Tony said, cupping his cheek. Peter couldn’t bare to look him in the eye. 

 

“Did he just…?” Sam whispered, making Peter’s cheeks burn. 

 

“Strip, Peter.” 

 

Peter slowly eased off the recliner and slipped off his jeans. Looking to the floor, he carefully stepped out of his wet boxers. 

 

“Mr. Stark, I’m sorry,” he apologized. 

 

Tony grabbed his chin and pulled him close. “Already?” he laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You’re not sorry yet. If you were, you wouldn’t have broken the rule, right?” Peter nodded glumly. “Steve, give me a hand.” 

 

In a flash, Steve scooped Peter off and carried him down through the compound until they reached a quiet corridor. Tony opened the double doors and started shifting around for supplies. “Tony, what is this place?” 

 

“Set him down on the table.” Steve complied, setting Peter down in a diagonal table with a chair at the end. Peter gave a cautious look to the weird seat, but he didn’t have much of a choice before he was thrown on it. 

 

A cool wind shifted through the lab; without having anything to cover him up, he felt awfully exposed. Stark naked in a chilly lab with fully clothed superheroes? A little unnerving. And really fucking hot. 

 

“Peter, I’ve been too nice to you,” Tony said, pulling up a chair to sit directly in front of him. “Really, it’s my fault you’re such a brat.” Peter bites his lip. 

 

Opening a box, Tony pulls out a silk blindfold. Before Peter knows it, it’s being wrapped over his eyes. “Mr. Stark?” Peter asked with a shaky voice. “I…” 

 

“You want to come without permission?” Tony asked. “Fine. Be my guest.” 

 

Peter stiffens. The spider bite gave him extraordinary systems, his hearing no exception. Except, in this lab he couldn’t hear anything. It was silent aside from muffled shuffling. 

 

The first thing he felt was  _ cold.  _ Something, cold from the liquid coating it, wrapped around his dick. A fleshlight? 

 

Peter didn’t know what it was, but he did know his heart was already stopping in his chest. “Mr. Stark?” he asked. “What is--” Without warning, it started moving, and Peter jumped in surprise. 

 

A metal arm grabbed his arm and pinned it above him. A pair of handcuffs rattled, and his wrists were cuffed to the bar at the top of the table. 

 

The loss of his arms made him even more aware of his predicament. A hand grabbed at his foot and he was bound to the legs of the chair. 

 

Whatever it was, a fleshlight he’s sure, it was pumping  _ slowly.  _ Agonizingly slowly. 

 

Every so often, it’d pop off, and a pair of hands would have to guide it back over his dick. Everytime, Peter leaned into the contact. 

 

Another set of hands found themselves roaming Peter’s body. A pinch here and there, a light smack against his thigh. A soft nibbling on his neck. 

 

Yeah, he was about to lose it. 

 

“Mr. Stark, I can’t!” Peter yelped suddenly, eyes squinting shut under the blindfold. “I can’t; I can’t.”

 

“It’s okay, Peter. I’ll let you come.” 

 

Peter’s pretty sure it’s a trap, but there’s nothing that can stop the constant pumping on his dick to keep him from teetering over the edge. His toes curl at the pleasure as he comes all over his belly. 

 

And, then, it doesn’t stop. It keeps going. Slow, yeah, but it’s still going. “Mr. Stark?” he asked, already oversensitive from his orgasm. He shrunk back against the table, but there was nowhere to go. “Please, stop! It’s too much.” 

 

“Oh, baby, I’m just giving you what you wanted,” Tony whispered, kissing him. Peter accepts the kiss, a nice distraction from the pain. Tony pulls back with a trail of saliva hanging off Peter’s tongue.

 

A bottle cap opens. 

 

Without the kissing to distract him, he falls back against the table. He clenches his fist as he feels a pair of hands spreading his cheeks apart. 

 

Peter raises his hips for the lube-covered hands to press against his opening. His chest hitches as a single finger enters him. He grinds against the hand. The fleshlight changes pace -- a for sure warning for Peter to stop doing what he was doing. Peter went still in defeat. 

 

As the second and third finger entered him, he couldn’t help but buck up into the air. “Mr. Stark, please, please, I… Too fast, too fast.” The fleshlight slows just a tad, but the fingers don’t stop moving. 

 

There’s more shuffling before Peter feels a small prodding at his ass. It’s a little thicker than the fingers, and it’s going in slow. Peter sucks in a deep breath and leans into the hands in his hair as the dildo is pressed into him. 

 

When the damn dildo hits against his prostate, he twitches. The restraints around his hands don’t let him get very far. “Oh, first try!” Sam hissed quietly. There was a smacking of hands. 

 

Peter braced himself for him to finally be fucked, which he’s been begging for a while now. What he doesn’t expect is for the thing to start vibrating. 

 

At first it simply vibrates, but then it’s moving and Peter can make out the beads and the different textures. 

 

When it starts fucking in an out of him, he screams. Peter arches off the table, but a metal hand is there to guide him back against it. Peter lets out a strangled cry as the fucking machine picks up the pace. Meanwhile, the fleshlight around his cock is speeding up, and he’s seeing dots. 

 

“Mr. Stark, I’m…I, I, I…!” 

 

“You ask for permission, Peter,” Tony said, hands pinching his nipple. “Ask me. I’ll let you.” 

 

“Sir, may I… may I… finish?” 

 

There was laughing, actual genuine laughing. “No, no, don’t give it to him,” Sam snickered. “Not unless he says it.” 

 

“What?” Peter groaned, tilting his head back. “Oh, oh…!” As much as he was dying for this to be over, having the machine stop as soon as he was close again was an absolute nightmare. “Sir, may I… come?” He whispered the last part so quietly, but Tony had to give it to him. 

 

The machine started, and Peter curled his toes. “Yes,” Tony said, helping him through it. 

 

He felt the pleasure wash over him, but it didn’t last long. It faded slowly, and when the sensations didn’t stop, he started to cry. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he apologized, arching to get away from the contact. “Please, please, it’s too much. I’m sorry.” 

 

“Why are you crying, baby?” Tony purred, licking a stray tear from his blindfold. “Do you wanna come again?” 

 

“No!” he said, shaking his head. 

 

“No?” Steve asked. “He really is a brat, isn’t he? After all this, he forgets his manners.” 

 

Peter really shouldn’t be getting hard again just because Captain America called him a brat, but here he is. 

 

Really fucking turned on. (He blames those shitty Cap videos the school shows when he gets in trouble.) 

 

“Please, please, please, it’s too much!” Peter cried, entire body convulsing. “I’m sorry, sir.” 

 

“Alright, one more try, okay? Don’t come without permission.” 

 

“Yes, yes, thank you,” he breathes, waiting for the machines to switch off. 

 

They don’t. Peter screams through it as yet another orgasm comes. He feels the pleasure for a moment before it’s gone. Then, it’s too much. 

 

“Wow,” Tony sighed as Peter sobbed. “I just gave you a chance, and you do that?” 

 

The machines switch off, and Peter drops his head. 

 

It was torture, really, setting him up for failure like that. He has a feeling that’s just how they like it. (And to tell the truth, he does too.) 

 

The dildo is pulled out of him slowly, and the fleshlight follows. He takes the emptiness as a chance to regain his breath. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Peter apologized, shifting as he felt something press against his hole. “No, no, no, please, not again, please!” 

 

“It’s just a plug,” Bucky whispered. Peter settles as the rest of it is pushed in. 

 

Tony rips off the blindfold to look at Peter’s masked face. Wide, brown eyes meet his own. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll have you trained in no time.” 

 

Eyeing the remote in his hand, Peter gulps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im so sorry this took me so long to update and it's such garbage
> 
> i promise next one will be better (i PROMISE) and longer, hopefully, bc this was a sad little nine pages. im sorry :( 
> 
> if anyone has any suggestions, i'll gladly take them. (especially on pairings, bc if not this whole thing is gonna be starker and buckyxpeter, so pls comment down below what y'all would like to see!! no promises, but i'll do my best) 
> 
> ty all for ur patience! hope u enjoy


	5. eyes on fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> little more of cheeky lil shit peter

Peter doesn’t ever remember being this noisy. The Avengers has their own way of bringing out this other side of him, one which never shuts up. 

 

Peter can hear the desperate little moans falling from his lips. It’s background noise at this point, but he knows it’s him. 

 

It’s sure as hell not Bucky, who is stoic as ever. Peter loves that about him, for one. Peter could be in complete utter shambles, and Bucky shows no emotion, no empathy, no anything. 

 

“Please, Sergeant Barnes,” Peter begged. He’s been in his lap since he woke up that morning with the plug in his ass vibrating. 

 

“I know you’re not asking to come after I let you four times yesterday,” Tony countered from the doorway. 

 

Peter pulled away from Bucky to plead at the smug asshole at his door. “Mr. Stark, this is cruel!” 

 

Bucky scoffed and pushed Peter’s face into the mattress. “I’m not the one doing it,” Tony said, holding his hands up. 

 

“Then… You gave him a remote!” Peter, face red with anger (and sexual frustration), sat up on his knees. “You’re teaming up on me!” 

 

“We’re not the only ones with one, so be on your best behavior,” Tony said, waving. “Have fun at work today, Peter.” 

 

“This sucks,” Peter grumbled as Bucky flipped him on his back. “Sergeant Barnes, I have work in twenty minutes!” The plug upped in intensity, and Peter punched the mattress. “Sergeant Barnes!” 

 

Bucky grabbed the end of the plug and gently fucked him with it. It was just a simple motion, but it sent Peter reeling. “This is so hard!” 

 

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “We’re just getting started, Peter.” 

 

“This ‘training’ is going to kill me.” When Bucky laughed, Peter huffed. “What’s he got planned?” 

 

“You’re really only worried about him?” Bucky asked, leaning over to bite softly on his neck. 

Peter craned his neck back to give him better access. “Kitten, you have no  _ idea  _ what’s coming.” 

 

Peter blushed at the nickname. “Sergeant Barnes, I have to go to work.” 

 

“You are at work,” he said, trailing down to his nipples. He sucked slightly, and Peter grabbed his hair. 

 

“Oh!” he chirped, leaning into his mouth. “Oh, I really do need to go.” 

 

Bucky withdrew after a great deal of hesitation. “Why don’t you quit?” 

 

Peter laughed and grabbed Bucky’s shoulders. “Sorry but ‘Avenger’s sex slave’ doesn’t look good on applications.” 

 

“And whatever burger joint you work at does?” He asked, pressing one last kiss to his neck. 

 

“Yes, actually,” Peter said, hopping off the bed. 

 

“Doll, you okay? You’re walking funny.” 

 

“Ha, ha,” he said, buttoning his shirt. He pulled a pair of jeans out, and Bucky tutted. 

 

“Wear the tight ones,” he ordered. 

 

Peter folded the pair and tossed it back in. He climbed into the new pair of jeans. “Sergeant Barnes, I really am going to be late.” 

 

“Alright, one last thing,” he promised, following him out the bedroom door, “Eat some breakfast before you go?” Peter compromises by grabbing a muffin. 

 

He sprints into the building, grabbing his coat as he went by, and stumbled into the lab. Tony was buried in a holo display on the other side of the lab. He slowed his pace and walked up to him to carefully see the display. 

 

It was blueprints for a sex swing. A chill went down his spine. 

 

“Morning, Parker. You get a chance to do that homework?” 

 

Peter tore his eyes off of the blueprints. “Uh, yeah, I had a couple ideas…” He pulled out a crumbled composition notebook and opened up to a bookmarked page. 

 

Tony took the notebook and fell into his seat. His face was impossible to read. 

 

Peter shifted on uneasy feet. Only a couple of the ideas were actually his, the rest he took from Ayra. He hadn’t even bothered to look at them. 

 

Probably a mistake on his part. 

 

“Wow,” Tony said at last, throwing the notebook on his table. “Not bad.” 

 

Peter flushed at the praise, even though technically most of it wasn’t his own work. 

 

“Grab that toolbox,” he ordered, and Peter scrambled to pick it up. 

 

Tony took Peter outside the building to walk to the other side of the Avengers Compound. He stepped inside, eyeing his, er, Spider-Man’s shoes in a cubby. Tony motioned for him to follow, and he led him into the same room from yesterday. 

 

Or, what he thought was the same room. It looked awfully different, but then again Peter hadn’t gotten a good chance to look at it with his blindfold on. 

 

The room was painted black and red with many pieces of weird looking furniture. There was two doors on each side, but they were locked shut. Peter made sure to stay away from them. 

 

“You’re stronger than you look,” Tony complimented. 

 

Peter set down the “heavy” toolbox with an exaggerated huff. “Oh, I workout,” he said, which wasn’t a total lie. 

 

“You do?” Tony asked. 

 

Peter made a confused face on why he’s taking interest in it. “I do… acrobatics.” Heh. Arachnobatics, more like it. 

 

“Acrobatics, huh? So you’re flexible?” 

 

“Yeah…” he said, looking a little uncomfortable. He really didn’t like where this was going. Tony’s on to him; he has to be. “I can do the splits?” For whatever reason, he did so, slipping into the position easily. “Ta da!” The jazz hands were necessary. 

 

“That’ll come in handy later.” Tony pulled a box out of the corner of the room. “I need you to build this.” 

 

Peter got out of the splits position and examined the box. “Oh, a cage? Are you getting a dog?” 

 

Tony gave him an incredulous look. “It’s for Spider-Man.” 

 

Peter gapes, looking between him and the box. It’s big; he could fit in it, but he can’t even imagine being locked inside it. The thought goes straight to his dick, and he tries to shake the thought away. “Oh.” 

 

“I’m trusting you on this, Parker.” 

 

Peter hesitantly spilled the box on the floor. “I can build it.” 

 

“No, I need your full confidentiality on this. Word can’t get out about Spider-Man. If it does…” 

 

Peter shook his hands frantically. “I promise!” That one, he would never break, as he’d be outing himself. Not ideal. 

 

Tony nods and returns to his work in Peter’s notebook. Peter starts building the cage, which really should’ve taken him about ten minutes, but as he got started, the plug in his ass started vibrating. 

 

Peter dropped the bar in his hands and lifted his ass off of the ground. Tony raised his glasses. “You alright, Parker?” 

 

“F-Fine, sir!” he stammered, picking up the bar. The buzzing was light, but it was more than enough to keep him distracted. 

 

He’s not sure how anyone could  _ ever  _ get any work done like this, but he manages. Thank God for being a genius. He barely passed geometry, but hey, he can build a sex cage with a butt plug vibrating in his ass. He should get an award. 

 

Feeling pretty proud of himself, Peter sits back to enjoy his work. 

 

“Parker, this is genius,” Tony said, biting the cap of his pen. Peter sets the tools back into the box. “I haven’t even thought about some of these…” 

 

_ Thanks, Arya.  _ Peter wants to hit himself in the face. He simply asked Arya ideas to “spice up the bedroom” and she hit him with a bunch of pages, way too much for him to bother to read. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be too bad. 

 

Or so he hoped. 

 

“Good work,” he said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Oh, are you feeling okay?” Tony placed a hand against his forehead. Peter blushed and pushed his boss away. 

 

“I’m okay,” he said, painfully aware of the plug. Tony stuck a hand in his pocket, and Peter knew what he was doing. When the plug upped in intensity, he expected it. 

 

Doesn’t mean he was ready, though. He almost hunched over. “Maybe you should lie down,” Tony said, guiding him into a really weird looking chair. 

 

“In the sex chair?” Peter asked, snorting. “I’ll be fine, sir.” 

 

“Well, this is a good chance to run some tests, huh?” he said, patting the chair. Peter climbed into it, and as soon as he sat down, binds snapped around each of his wrists and his ankles. “How long can you hang upside down without getting dizzy?” 

 

Peter doesn’t get dizzy from that, but normal humans do. “I’m not sure.” 

 

“Save that for a later day then.” The binds unsnapped, and Tony snatched his wrist. “Too tight?” 

 

“No, sir,” he said, shaking his head. 

 

Tony tutted. “I’ll have to make it tighter,” he said. “Friday?” The binds snapped again. “Better?” 

 

“Tight,” Peter ground out, wanting to squeeze his thighs together. If the plug in his ass didn’t stop vibrating soon, he’ll be coming in his pants. 

 

He doesn’t need a repeat of yesterday. 

 

Tony gave him a mirthful look before the binds released. Peter jumped out of the chair to ease some of the pressure.  

 

“I need something to get through to him,” Tony explained. “For now, I’m forcing him to go about his daily work with a butt plug. Cliche, but...Not bad.” 

 

“That sounds like torture,” Peter said, knowing full well that it was. 

 

“Yeah, but I can do something more,” he said, scanning the notebook. “Like, the spicy peppers one! That’s real clever.” 

 

“Right…” 

 

_ What the fuck did she write about peppers?  _

 

He really should’ve read the notebook, but he was in a hurry. He couldn’t think of much aside from the obvious ones: spanking, edging, crossdressing, which he’s had enough of already. 

 

“And the… Parker, you okay?” Peter was hunched over the table. Tony was wearing a smug little expression. “Are you ill?” 

 

“I can’t take this anymore,” he grumbles. “You know!” 

 

“Know what?” Tony asked, shrugging. 

 

Peter bit his lip.  _ Does he actually have no clue? Am I about to give away my identity over nothing?  _

 

“Is something wrong?” Tony asked. They were barely an inch apart. Peter sucked in a deep breath and shifted his feet. 

 

“Actually, I am feeling a little under the weather. May I go home early today?” 

 

Tony rubbed his shoulder. “Sure thing. I hope you feel better soon.” 

 

“Yeah… thanks,” Peter said, running out of the lab, shutting the door behind him. 

 

His body was screaming at him to move, to get out of there, but his legs could only take him so far. 

 

_ This is bad,  _ he thinks to himself. He jostles the plug, and he sends himself falling. He grabs on to the kitchen island for support. 

 

“Whoa, you alright?” a voice asked, and a pair of warm hands dig under him, helping him up. 

 

The man drags him away from the island and separates him from the only thing keeping him on his feet. His knees give out again, but the man is there to catch him. “Yeah…” he trailed off, grabbing his arm. “I’m okay.” He tried to step away, but his legs were made of jelly. 

 

_ Holy fuck.  _

 

Steve’s hair was a sweaty mess, going every direction. He wore a tight fitted shirt and loose sweatpants. It was a good look for him. “Uh, thanks,” he said, trying to stand on his own. “Captain America.” 

 

“Oh, just call me Steve,” he said, smiling. “You Tony’s intern?” 

 

Peter looked towards the room and nods. “Uh, yeah, sure. I guess.” 

 

“So you’re working on the… project.” He winks heavily. 

 

“With Spider-Man? Yeah,” he said, nodding. 

 

Steve looked him up and down. “No offense, but you don’t look like the type of person for that kind of job.” 

 

“I’m sorry?” Peter asked, cocking his head to the side. 

 

“You’re a professional dom, right? You don’t look it, but appearances can be deceiving…” 

 

“Oh, no, sir!” he said, holding up his hands. “I’m nothing like that. A scientist.” He tapped on the badge on his coat. 

 

“A scientist,” Steve repeated. His eyebrows furrowed together, but something must’ve clicked because his face lit up. “Oh.” Sensing he messed up, Peter started moving again. “Here, let me escort you out. Would you like me to call an ambulance?” 

 

“No,” he said, smiling. “I really don’t need an ambulance. Thank you Captain but no.” 

 

“Would you like me to drive you home?” 

 

“No!” Peter yelped before realising his mistake. “I mean… no thanks.” 

 

“Where do you live?” 

 

Peter looks to the corridor to his right. He’s inside his house, but he’s not about to say that. “Super far,” he said. “I’ll be okay.” 

 

“You sure…?” Steve asked, leading him to the front door. “I don’t mind.” 

 

“Super sure!” Peter yelped, slipping out the door. “Alright, bye!” 

 

Steve scratched his head in the doorway. Natasha stumbled up to him with a can of beer in her hand. “That’s him, isn’t it?” 

 

They moved to a window to where Peter was walking down the path. Steve pulled the remote in his pocket and turned it up. Peter stumbled and fell face first into the ground. 

 

Natasha nudged him as he laughed. “Yeah, that’s him.” 

 

He turned the remote back down and let Peter climb to his feet. 

 

“That was really mean,” Natasha said, but she was smiling. 

 

“He’s Spider-Man; he can handle a little fall.” 

 

Natasha rolled her eyes, leaving Steve to stare out the window to watch Peter slowly trudge to wherever he was going. 

 

Peter comes back a couple of hours later after visiting May in the hospital. The mask he wears today reminds him suspiciously of the ninja turtles mask. It’s soft, so he doesn’t complain. 

 

He takes a shower to wash off all the sweat. Really, he hadn’t done much all day, but the plug is driving him insane. At least it was quiet at the hospital. 

 

He’s rubbing conditioner into his hair when the plug starts again, and he almost trips in the shower. By the time he gets out, he has a stubbed toe. 

 

He’s already getting hard again, and he turns the water as cold as it can go. 

 

Thinking of unattractive thoughts (a naked Doctor Octavious), he climbs out of the shower into his mask and a pair of shorts Tony made custom for him. 

 

He barely makes it down the hallway. The first person he sees is Bucky, who catches him when he stumbles for the thousandth time that day. “Sergeant Barnes, turn it off!” he begs, grabbing his sleeves for support. 

 

Bucky tsks and scoops him up and throws him over his shoulder. “I can’t focus,” he whined, writhing in his hold as Bucky carried him into the living room. A sharp slap sounded against his bottom, and he went frigid as the plug moved against his prostate. “Fuck!” He bites down on his fist. 

 

Bucky threw him on his back over a blanket. Peter moves his legs apart to allow Bucky room. “If we wanted you to quit whining, you’d be stuffed with a gag already,” he growled, grabbing his fist and bringing it out of his mouth. “Would you like that?” 

 

Peter nodded. “Please,” he said. Anything was better than making these mortifying little squeaks. 

 

Bucky grinned. “No gag, then. I’ll remember that.” 

 

Peter pouted. “Mean.” He writhed on the blanket and turned away from Bucky. 

 

Bucky dug a finger into his shorts and tugged them down to his knees. Grabbing the end of the plug, he put pressure on it. Peter whined and crawled away from it. “I’m mean?” he asked, feigning hurt. “Oh, and I was thinking of letting you come.” 

 

He wasn’t, but Peter didn’t need to know that. 

 

Not when he kept begging so pretty. 

 

“Fuck, fuck!” His cock was hard, and he was really close. “No, Sergeant Barnes, please, I’ll get in trouble.” 

 

“It’s all on you, Peter. Don’t break the rules, and you won’t be in trouble.” Bucky twists the plug around, and Peter sees stars. 

 

“It’s not fair!” he protested. “I can’t help it.” 

 

He grips the base of his cock as tightly as he could. “Control,” Bucky ordered, and Peter breathed heavily, “it.” 

 

“It’s not fair,” he said, burying his face into a pillow. 

 

Bucky relents, turning down the vibrations until it’s a faint buzz. Peter twitches. “It’s not supposed to be a punishment. Just training.” 

 

“Feels like one.” Peter grits his teeth. 

 

“It will be if you don’t shut up.” 

 

“Please,” Peter begged, and Bucky flipped him over on all fours. Peter jolted forward when the first hit the curve of his ass. 

 

“Please, what? I’m starting to think you don’t even know what you want.” Bucky hits him again. 

 

“I… I want to come,” he confessed, burying his face into the couch. 

 

“Do you? Even though we let you yesterday?” 

 

Peter dropped his shoulders. “No, no, I don’t want that,” he said. “I…” His shoulders tensed. 

 

Bucky stopped the mini spanking and pulled the boy into his lap. “What do you want, Peter?” He lifted up his chin so the nervous boy would meet his eyes. 

 

“Sir, if I’m honest,” Peter says, “may I suck your cock?” 

 

Bucky blinks. He grins. “How the hell do I say no to that?” 

 

Peter pounces on him, carefully sliding down his sweatpants, anxious to see. They’ve seen all of him, but he’s seen barely any of them. 

 

Peter starts with gently grabbing his cock. He licks a long steady stripe up the side before covering his teeth with his lips and engulfing the tip. He puts one hand on his thigh and the other around the base. Gently working his hand up and down, he sucks on the tip as he tries to remember every detail in that cosmopolitan article he read. 

 

Cosmo must be a genius because whatever he’s doing is working. Bucky grabs a fistful of his hair. Peter tries his best to deepthroat, but he can’t get very far without gagging. Breathing through his nose, he focuses on keeping a steady pace for him. 

 

He popped off to catch his breath, and the plug in his ask started stirring. He gasped; Bucky grabbed his hair again and pushed him back on. Peter happily continues with his ass grinding against the blanket. 

 

Bucky’s thighs tenses up, and Peter keeps up the pace. He knows Bucky must be dying for him to pick up the pace, but he doesn’t. He focuses on the steady pace. 

 

When the plug picks up speed, he knows he deserved it. 

 

It doesn’t matter, though, because Bucky is already shuddering. Bucky grabs his head to pull him off, but Peter doesn’t move. He continues sucking until Bucky comes. Peter takes him through it and sucks him clean, even after he’s came. He swallows every bit of it down. 

 

The hand in his hair tugs, and Peter’s brought up to Bucky’s lips. Bucky’s tongue searched his mouth for every last drop of his come. Peter melted into the kiss. 

 

Pulling away, Peter panted. Bucky’s blue eyes were full of lust. “Good boy,” he praised. Peter beamed, but the beaming stopped when a shudder took over. 

 

“Sir?” he asked 

 

Bucky held up the remote. “It’s not me.” 

 

Peter looked around the room to spot a smirking Sam, remote in hand.  

 

“Give him a rest, Sam,” Bucky sighed, pulling the shaking Peter into his lap. Peter flinched but melted into the hug anyways. His metal hand pushed against his back and his flesh hand wrapped around his head to guide it on top of his shoulder. 

 

Peter whimpers at the pressure on his ass. Bucky mumbles something in Russian and rubs circles into his back. “It’s okay, Peter,” he consoled. “You’re okay. Breathe, kitten. Sam, turn the damn thing off.” 

 

Sam turned it down, and Peter instantly relaxed in his hold. “Thank you, thank you,” he said, still unbearably hard. Bucky smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. 

 

“He’s been good, Sam,” Bucky said, glaring at Sam as he sunk into a chair by the couch. Sam kicked his feet up on top of the table. “Give him a little break.” 

 

Peter bit his lip. “Sergeant Barnes, it is my job.” 

 

Bucky, confused, grabs his shoulders to look him in the eye. “I’m throwing you a bone here, kid.” 

 

Peter shrugged. “Whatever you want, sir, I’ll do it.” 

 

“Hot damn,” Sam sighed, setting his chin on his palm. 

 

“You’re actually perfect, Peter.” 

 

Peter blushed and covered his face with his hands. “Sergeant Barnes!” 

 

“You don’t have to call me that right now,” he said. 

 

“What do I call you?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. 

 

“Just Bucky,” he said, rubbing circles into his bag. 

 

“Okay,” Peter sighed blissfully. Bucky continued his motions carelessly. Sam turned on the television, but Peter just tuned it out. He was too focused on the pressure against his back and the warmth on the nape of his neck. 

 

After a bit, Peter started squirming. He grabbed Bucky tighter and climbed further up on his lap. If Bucky thought anything weird about it, he didn’t say anything. 

 

“Bucky,” Peter whispered, chest hitching, “sir?” 

 

“No ‘sir.’ We’re not in a scene right now.” 

 

Peter shook his head. “Sergeant Barnes, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna…” 

 

Bucky’s hand didn’t stop moving. Sam gaped. “You’re getting close just from that?” 

 

Peter shut his eyes tight. “Please, sir.” 

 

Bucky’s hands started roaming, exploring every exposed part of his body. His light touch against the skin above the hem of his shorts made him squeal. “Ticklish, too,” Sam noted, making his way over to sit on the other side of him. “I’ll have to remember that for later.” 

 

“Huh? Why’s that matter?” Peter asked. Bucky eased him off his lap until his feet were hooked on his shoulders with his back on the couch. Peter craned his head to look at Sam. 

 

“In case you’re bad,” Sam replied, dragging a finger along his neck. Peter scrunched his head and batted his hand away. “There’s more than one way of making you scream.” 

 

Peter gulped. “But you’re being good,” Bucky said instead, sneaking a hand inside his shirt to tickle his side. 

 

“Then why?” he chirped, laughing. 

 

“Cause it’s fun,” Bucky replied. “And you deserve a break. You’re a good boy.” 

 

Peter groaned when his dick twitched at the praise. He tried to escape Bucky and Sam’s teasing fingers, but the metal hand on his stomach stilled him. 

 

“He’s actually getting off on the praise,” Sam noted, eyeing the tent in his shorts. “You got a praise kink, Peter?” 

 

“N-No,” Peter said, scrunching his nose. 

 

“Telling lies?” Bucky tsked. “You sure you wanna go down that path? I’d hate to punish you when you’ve been so good.” 

 

“I’m not lying,” Peter lied. “I like compliments as much as the next guy.” 

 

Sam clucked his tongue. “No, the next guy doesn’t almost come in his shorts after being called a ‘good boy.’” Peter gulped. “So, wanna try that again, Peter?” 

 

“Of course I don’t like being praised like a dog.” 

 

He really was an idiot. 

 

“You don’t like being treated like a dog? Even though you’re our bitch?” Bucky asked. The tickling had stopped, and the easygoing aura vanished. 

 

Peter’s cock strained against his shorts. 

 

_ Ugly Octavious,  _ Peter chants to himself as Bucky continues talking. 

 

“You’re our  _ pet.  _ We should get you a collar and make you wear it around the house. Make you sleep in a dog house.” 

 

“Lock you up in the cage Tony built,” Sam adds. 

 

Peter huffs because he built it and tony’s taking credit for his honest work, but after the plug turns on, he decides he has bigger things to worry about. 

 

“You practically purr when I touch you, and you beg like a bitch in heat constantly.” Peter shuts his eyes. 

 

“He’s getting off on this,” Sam said. “You get off to anything, huh? 

 

“Praise kink not enough for you? You like being humiliated, Peter?” 

 

The man in question covered his face with his hands and shuddered. He closed his eyes as tightly as he could manage to keep himself from drowning in the warmth Sam and Bucky provide. He loathes the way they make him crumble like putty in their hands, or at least that’s what he keeps trying to tell his mind, but his body keeps betraying him every chance it gets. 

 

He really does hate the way his legs get wobbly and the way his face heats up. He hates it; he really does, but somehow, the feeling of their hands roaming his body makes up for it. 

 

“He asked you a question,” Sam adds. Peter squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, even though that was barely possible. 

 

He was painfully aware of this predicament he’s dug himself into. 

 

The things they say… All of them. How the Avengers treat him, how they look at him, how they touch him -- all of it proves to be too much. It fills Peter with an unwelcome warmness, one he doesn’t know what to do with. 

 

Peter’s never loved before, and he wouldn’t know what it felt like. 

 

But this? He could get used to this. 

 

As much as he hates it, he really could. He’s pretty smitten over the good looking two, who he now realizes he’s left unanswered. 

 

He slowly removes his hands away from his eyes to look at Bucky. He has to crane his head against the couch cushion to see Sam behind him. 

 

He gulps furiously. His mouth has run dry. “Yes, sir,” he mumbles weakly. It’s his best effort. 

 

It was the best he could do, which wasn’t saying much. It was a pitiful attempt at him speaking his mind, and Bucky and Sam  _ ate  _ it up. 

 

Sam wasn’t visible, but if he was anything like Bucky, who was grinning ear to ear like a cat who caught a mouse, he’d be grinning too. 

 

“Oh, yeah?” Bucky hummed, dragging his flesh hand through Peter’s messy hair. Peter leaned into the contact desparately. He was starved for any non-sexual intimacy, even with Bucky’s soft fondling from earlier. “Kitten, you wanna tell us more of what you like?” 

 

Peter nodded. Without a doubt, there was a scarlet red blush dusting his cheeks, but he pushed past it. This is his job, and Aunt May didn’t raise no bitch. “I like…” Oh, hell, he is a bitch. Or, at least, he likes being called one. “I like it when you treat me like the slut that I am.” 

 

His voice catches on his words. He’s overstepping way more than he’s comfortable with, but this is the big leagues. These are the Avengers, who have probably messed around with people way more experienced than Peter. 

 

The confidence he’d been trying to build up crumbles into pieces. He’s trying to dirty talk back to two heavily experienced men. Both veterans -- it’s impossible to tell how much they’ve done. Bucky, especially, who is over a hundred years old now. 

 

He probably looks like a fool. He feels the blush returning and he feels like dying, but Peter is a genius. He knows what he has to do. 

 

“Peter, if you need to safeword, you can,” Sam warns. The buttplug dies down, and all the hands on his body are comforting. The painful realization of Peter’s unexperience must’ve flashed across his face because both veterans took notice. 

 

“It’s okay,” Bucky consoled, voice laced with concern. 

 

Peter was a clever boy. 

 

“I like that I have you fooled,” Peter says, managing a smile of all things. He’s being cheeky, which he will be paying for later, but he doesn’t have it in him to care. He can do this. Spider-Man never backs down from a fight. “That you think I’m so innocent.” 

 

Bucky’s expression changes rapidly. For once, it’s him losing composure and not Peter. It’s a nice change of pace. Peter could get used to that. 

 

“You have us fooled now?” Bucky asked, recovering quickly. “We’ve been on to you, kitten. You’re an open book.” 

 

“I’m not a virgin fool,” Peter says, but in the back of his head, he kind of is. He’s a vanilla boy, through and through. That’s not to say he’s not enjoying the research he’s putting into this. “But you think I am.” 

 

“Babydoll, with the way you blush over every compliment, you are,” Sam counters. 

 

“Au contraire, mon frere,” Peter says, expertly using the few words he remembers from French class. “That’s just what I want you to think.” 

 

“You’re awfully cute, you know that?” Bucky murmured, leaning in to graze the shell of his ear. “We see right through you, kitten. Everyone in this compound knows how much of a virgin slut you are.” 

 

“Sir, that, uh, that’s very contradictory,” Peter says. Bucky pulls away from him. 

 

“So are you, doll,” Sam says. “Somehow that fits you perfectly.” 

 

Peter scrunched his nose up. “I don’t like it.” 

 

“You like ‘filthy slut’ better?” Bucky asked, laughing. Peter’s eyes give him away. “You’re too easy.” Bucky’s eyes leave Peter’s body to look straight ahead. Peter twists his head around, his feet still hooked over Bucky’s shoulders, to see a smug Sam. “Your two braincells come up with something clever?” 

 

“A game,” Sam said, deciding to ignore his remark. “Which Peter gets off to faster: praise or humiliation?” 

 

“Perfect,” Bucky decides, “but one little tweak? As… Peter isn’t going to be getting off anytime soon. He’s  _ training. _ ” 

 

“He’s lasted this long today. He deserves a reward, doesn’t he? For being good?” Sam asked, grabbing the sides of his head. “Oh, there he goes again. You’re starved for it, aren’t you? The World hasn’t been so kind to you, but we’ll fix that.” 

 

“Sir, with all due respect, I’m not so sure if this is being kind,” Peter retorted, as quippy as ever. 

 

“We could be a lot meaner,” Bucky warned. “A lot meaner.” 

 

“But we’re being nice, giving you what you want. You take whatever we give you,” Sam praised, and Peter was getting drunk off it. “We were right about you. You’re so deprived of this that you almost got your rocks off when Bucky barely touched you.” 

 

“I wonder… just how little would it take to get you off, huh? If we could make you come untouched just by telling you how proud we are,” Sam continued. 

 

Peter groaned, and Bucky slapped the inner part of his thigh. “Another day,” he promised. “If I let you sit on my lap while we watch TV, you swear to not come in your pants?” 

 

Peter laughed. “Yes, Sergeant Barnes.” 

 

Bucky unhooked his feet off his shoulders and pulled Peter to sit in his lap. He crossed his legs around the small boy and rested his chin on his shoulder. Sam leaned into Bucky’s side and threw a blanket over the. “It’s Bucky, kitten,” he reminded, tugging at his hair lightly. “Scene over.” 

 

“Yes, sir--” Peter stopped, cringing. “Yes, Bucky.” 

 

“Good boy,” he said, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> peter hasnt been quippy enough, but im torn bc yeah spiderman is always really snarky, but then peter has this good boy act going on so im trying to build on both of that, ya feel
> 
> anyways, yall's requests have been heard, i will do my absolute best to write in some thor (but that'll most likely be in the sequeal work to this one)
> 
> i plan one last installment in this work, and its gonna have alot more tony in it (trust me, the lack of tony scenes has been for a reason, trust meeeee yall)
> 
> IMPORTANT: oh also psa: if this work doesnt show up, its bc i occasionally switch this for ao3 users only bc i linked this to my ig (softdadironman if anyone wondering) and a friend from school found my acc so i had to do some precautions, so thats why
> 
> also bye ily all


	6. bit by bit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oofie

At some point during the episode, Peter’s eyes started to shut. Every so often, he’d snap awake and his eyes would flutter open in a hurry, but eventually, his eyes stopped opening, and he fell limp against Bucky’s stomach. 

 

His face fell facing Sam. His chest hitched with every breath. 

 

Sam was the one to mute the show. “It’d be mean to wake him up, wouldn’t it?” Bucky whispered. He wouldn’t dare it, but he couldn’t help but tease the boy even when he’s asleep. 

 

“He’s exhausted,” Nat cuts in, biting a potato chip. She stands by the couch with a bag in her hand. Clint’s right behind her. “His living space is his workspace. Give him a break.” 

 

“I am,” Bucky said, stroking his hair. “Actually, I think I’ll take him to bed.” 

 

Sam’s eyes popped out of his head. “Uh, Bucky--” 

 

“To sleep,” he interrupted. “Yeah, I know. Stark would kill me.” He rolled his eyes. “Just to sleep, alright?” 

 

As carefully as he could, Bucky scooped him off of the couch and threw him gently over his shoulder. He kicked his bedroom door open, making sure to close it and lock it behind him. He pulled the blanket over them, making sure to give Peter the most of it. 

 

Bucky sat up in his bed as Peter snored loudly. He snatched a book off his nightstand. 

 

The door creaked open, and Steve peered around the doorframe. “Sam said you took him to bed.” 

 

Bucky puts his bookmark inside of his book and sets it on his nightstand. “Yeah.” 

 

“You’re not… sleeping,” Steve noted, eyeing the sleeping boy suspiciously. Peter lets out a moan in his sleep and rolls over on his stomach. 

 

“I have to keep an eye on him,” Bucky lied, jabbing an accusatory thumb towards Peter’s direction. “That superhero stamina, am I right?” 

 

“Bucky…” Steve trailed off gently. He took another step inside for the light to shine in through the window. A small ray of moonlight reflects across his concerned blue eyes. “You won’t hurt him.” 

 

“I hurt her.” 

 

The last time Bucky slept with someone in his bed, the girl woke up breathless with a hand around her throat. 

 

“He’s Spider-Man,” Steve defended. Bucky shrugged. A conversation for another time. “I met him today.” 

 

“Who?” Bucky asked, scooting over for Steve to sit next to him. 

 

“Peter,” he replied. “Like, the real Peter, him under his mask.” 

 

Bucky looks past Steve to make sure he’s asleep. A loud snore confirms his suspicions. “Wow.” Steve nods, excitedly. “What an invasion of privacy.” 

 

Steve frowns. “It wasn’t on purpose,” he protested, pouting. “He’s obvious about it. And he’s super cute, Bucky. He’s younger than I thought.” 

 

Bucky froze. “How young?” 

 

Steve paused. 

 

Peter did say he was an intern, but he can’t be that young. Tony hires the finest of the finest, meaning Peter probably needs some college experience. 

 

Right? 

 

“I’ll have to ask,” he said, grabbing his chin. “Oh, acually…” he trailed off, snapping his fingers, “how about you check with me?” 

 

***

 

Bucky never went to sleep that night. He was there in the morning when Peter started rolling in his sleep and pressing himself against Bucky. He pushed him off at first, but he was persistent. Peter’s hips thrusted against the bed. 

 

His face contorted in frustration. Even in his sleep, Peter couldn’t get what he wanted. He was getting close, and Bucky didn’t feel like torturing him when he’s been so good lately, so he reaches out and shakes his shoulders. 

 

Peter lets out a low growl. “Peter, don’t you have work?” Bucky asked, shaking him. When that didn’t work, he leaned over him and whispered into his ear, “Kitten, it’s time to get up.” 

 

Peter sat up so quickly they hit heads. Wincing in pain, he covers his forehead. “Oh, Sergeant Barnes, I’m so sorry,” he apologized frantically. “Are you alright?” 

 

“I’m a supersoldier.” Peter nods because, yeah, he knew that; he’s not stupid. He must look pretty dumb freaking out over a simple “kitten” but here he is, freaking out. Not to mention the tent in his pants, which is impossible to cover. He grabs the blanket and throws it over his crotch anyways. “Go take a cold shower before you’re late for burger flipping.” 

 

Peter climbs out of the bed and throws a lazy smile over his shoulder. “I don’t burger flip.” 

 

“What do you do? Solve crimes?” he asked. “You a doctor? I bet you’re a doctor.” 

 

“Maybe I’m the President,” he suggested. “Or I’m…” He looked down at his watch. “Late for work.” He grabbed a pillow to hold over his crotch as he ran up to his bedroom to shower and change. 

 

He made it to work on time. He showered as quickly as possible and changed into a pair of tight jeans, which fit awkwardly against the plug. He pushed past it and stumbled into the lab. 

 

“I’m so, so sorry I’m late,” he apologized, running into the room Tony’s been working in. Tony’s slouched over a desktop with a mug in his hand. “It won’t happen again.” 

 

Tony slowly turns in his chair and raises his mug. “You look well rested.” 

 

“I… Yes, sir.” He couldn’t help but feel guilty. “What’re we working on today?” 

 

He used to dream about working with Mr. Stark, but this is nothing he had ever hoped for. The man’s a dream and a half, but there’s something really unappealing about making life hell (or is it heaven) for his alter ego. 

 

“I have a new project for you. Think you can handle it?” Peter would be dumb to say no, so he nods. “Good. I’m working on a new upgrade for his suit.” The “he” in question was clear. He passed over the holographic files for Peter to look at. 

 

Peter wasn’t a fool. He gets to work right away. 

 

Working in  _ this  _ room, whatever this room is called (Peter’s too scared to ask), instead of a lab is a strange adjustment. Time flies by as he gets to work on his own suit, which is really just saving him time. 

 

He had always wanted a jet pack. Now is as good as a time as any to get one. 

 

After a couple hours of good work, Peter takes a lunch break. Tony tells him to help himself to the kitchen, which normally he’d politely refuse, but he does live there and Tony is a billionaire. 

 

He walks into the kitchen where Steve and Bucky are posed directly in front of the pantry, as if they knew he’d be there. (Which they totally did.) 

 

“Oh, hi,” Peter said, making sure to avoid eye contact with Bucky. “Thanks again for helping me yesterday.” 

 

Steve steps forward and pops Peter’s personal bubble. He leans away from the taller man uncomfortably. “Don’t mention it. I’m just glad you’re feeling better.” 

 

“Oh, uh, yeah,” he stammered uncomfortably. For lack of anything better to say, he adds, “I was just taking a lunch break.” 

 

“I’m sure Stark’s putting you through the wringer,” Bucky adds in from his stool at the counter. 

 

_ You too,  _ Peter thought, sending an accusatory glare his way. “Nothing I can’t handle,” he says proudly. 

 

Steve smiled. “You’re a smart boy.” 

 

Peter eyed him suspiciously. Something just wasn’t adding up. 

 

For one thing, Steve and Bucky are never in the compound at this time of day. They have better things to do than lounge around the house all day long. 

 

Steve has missions, real Captain America level threats to get to. Yet, he’s here making small talk with Peter? Weird. 

 

Unless they’re on to him. 

 

“I’d hardly say I’m a boy,” Peter said. 

 

“How old are you?” Steve asked, looking a little nervous. 

 

Yeah. They’re on to him. 

 

Peter feels panic at first, but he was already planning a reveal eventually. If he’s going to trust someone with his identity, they might as well be his roommates. 

 

“I’m seventeen,” he replied. They both look uneasy. “The legal age of consent in New York is seventeen.” 

 

Steve and Bucky drop their uneasy looks. Steve laughs awkwardly. “Yeah, what about it?” 

 

“What do you do on spy missions if you’re this obvious?” Peter asked, raising his eyebrow. Steve cleared his throat while Bucky let out a harsh laugh. “How’d you find out?” 

 

Steve slips a hand into his pocket and pulls out one of the dreaded remotes. “I can show you,” he offered. 

 

“That’s okay,” he said quickly, putting his hands up. Steve lowered it as a truce. “So… you know. About…” He made the “thwip” motion with his hand. 

 

“About you being Spider-Man?” Bucky asked loudly. 

 

Peter hisses and puts a finger over his lips. “Shut up,” he squealed, looking around to make sure nobody heard. Little to his knowledge, Bucky anticipated this and cleared the floor before he even came out of the room. 

 

Steve put a hand on his hip. “Wanna try that again, jailbait?” Bucky teased. 

 

“Not jailbait,” he said, sticking his tongue out. “I’m legal. And, if you must know, I’ll be eighteen soon.” 

 

“How soon?” Steve asked. 

 

“Uh, what day is it?” he hummed, looking at his watch. “Oh, tomorrow.” 

 

“It’s your birthday tomorrow?” Steve asked. 

 

Peter nods. “I guess it is.” He pushes past them to grab a protein bar out of the pantry. He tears into it so hard it drops out of his hand and he catches it without looking. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

 

Steve doesn’t realize he’s staring. “It’s your birthday tomorrow; we should do something,” he said. 

 

Peter tears a piece off of the bar and chews it. “Uh-huh, right… Well, I need to get back to work,” he said awkwardly, not following Steve’s breakdown. 

 

Bucky holds up a finger. “Hold on a second,” he said. “So we’re the only ones that know?” 

 

Peter shrugged. “I think Arya knows about my birthday, and Ned knows, but--” 

 

“No, Peter,” Bucky sighed. “About your identity.” 

 

“Oh!” he said. “Yeah, I think Mr. Stark is on to me, but it’s hard to tell. I can’t read him.” 

 

Banner and Stark talk science all day long in boring, neverending conversations that just drag on and on. Bucky and Steve can’t hang in. Steve tries, for one, to understand what they ramble about, but he gets lost somewhere. 

 

They may be military men, but they’re not stupid. Even if they can’t hang in a conversation about quantum physics or string theory, it doesn’t mean they’re stupid. 

 

They’re military men, and they’re brilliant at making plans. 

 

“Hey, kitten,” Bucky drawled in a way that makes Peter completely lose his appetite for the bar and crave something entirely different. He perks up and leans in close. “What do you say… we mess with Stark a bit?” 

 

Bucky and Tony  _ has  _ had some beef with each other in the past. He might’ve killed his parents while being brainwashed, but that’s behind them. It took them a while to get used to each other. They butt heads on missions often and even more so when it comes to Peter. 

 

The ongoing war between them might’ve had a tiny bit to do with Bucky’s plan. There was nothing too malicious in his intent - he just wanted to see how it played out. 

 

So, Steve and Bucky sat in the living room huddled around a TV screen streaming the inside of the room. 

 

Peter creaked open the door slowly. Tony was still working at his desk with his music blaring. 

 

He couldn’t tell you the name of the song that was playing, but it was one May used to play all the time. It was blasting enough to cover Peter’s entrance. “Uh, Mr. Stark?” he asked, having to shout a little just so he’d be able to hear him. “Friday, little help?” 

 

The music paused, and a peeved Tony turned away from his hologram. “Yes, Parker?” Tony slipped his red glasses off his face to sit on his desk. 

 

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “You didn’t eat lunch.” 

 

Tony scoffs lightly. “Worry about those upgrades; I’m fine.” 

 

In the other room, their audience sits up straight. They sent Peter in blind with a very vague mission to “flirt,” and so far it’s going terribly. 

 

When Peter wears his mask, he can carry himself a bit better. In the lab, he’s suffering. They can barely watch. They can’t look away. 

 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter asked, putting a hand on his shoulder. Exasperated, Tony turned to face him. “You have to be a little hungry.” 

 

“Parker,” he spat, “Get back to work.” 

 

Steve cringed and looked away from the screen. 

 

Before Tony could look away, Peter caught his chin and lightly tugged so he would look at him. On shaky legs, he pulled himself to sit on his boss’s lap. “You could eat me, sir,” he offered as casually as he could. “I’m all yours.” 

 

Steve’s jaw dropped. Bucky’s jaw dropped. 

 

Even Peter looked surprised. 

 

Tony masked his thoughts well. He hummed and snatched Peter’s wrist. He did have superhuman strength to which he could’ve resisted, but he snaps like a pencil for him. 

 

“You’re supposed to be working on  _ your  _ suit adjustments,” Tony growled lowly. 

 

“So you did know,” he said, nodding. “You knew all along.” 

 

“Of course I did,” he scoffed. 

 

“And you were messing with me,” Peter said, pouting a bit. “That’s a cruel mind game.” 

 

“One that you should leave to me,” he said, putting a hand over his chest. “That’s not to say I didn’t appreciate you offering yourself up to me.” He drags a finger across his cheek. Peter beams under the praise. “Even though you were already mine.” 

 

This is his real face. If his expressions were readable before, they were clear as day now. He had no mask to protect him. 

 

Fully clothed in the lab, he felt naked. 

 

And still, he persisted. “If I’m yours,” Peter said, chest catching on his words. He had to take a moment to ponder over what he was about to say. Throwing caution to the wind, he gulped and continued, “If I’m yours, why haven’t you fucked me already?” 

 

Steve is full on sinking into the couch at this point. Bucky’s patting him on the shoulder as if to say “I knew all along” because he totally did. He’s not as innocent as he seems. 

 

“Baby boy, you’re impatient,” Tony tutted. “What, Barnes not satisfying you?” Peter recoiled in his defense. Tony felt the retaliation and put a careful hand on his back. “It was a joke, Peter. I know what you need.” 

 

“Yeah?” Peter hummed. 

 

“It can wait until your birthday, though.” 

 

Peter deflated and pouted. “I’ve been waiting for  _ so  _ long, Mr. Stark.” 

 

“Well,” he said, clicking his tongue, “I guess since you’ve been good…” Tony wraps his arms around Peter and drops him on a soft, cushioned bench. Without hesitation, he unbuttons his jeans and pulls them to his knees. Peter squirms because Steve and Bucky are still watching, but if he says something about it now, there’s no telling how Tony would react. 

 

Peter’s had enough of the plug; he prepared himself as Tony slipped a finger into his pocket to adjust that damn remote. Sure enough, it kicks in, going from zero to one hundred in no time. 

 

“Take off your shirt,” Tony ordered, looking rather bored. 

 

Peter sat up and winced at the pressure. He went to stand to elevate it, but Tony motioned for him to stay seated with a harsh flick of the wrist. Peter gulps and slips his shirt off and folds it into a neat pile before dropping it to the floor. 

 

In nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs, Peter is at Tony’s mercy. 

 

Ever since Tony hired him, he’s been playing constant mind games. He’s a genius himself, albeit nowhere near Tony’s level, but he’s pretty smart too. Still, he finds himself lost in these mazes he makes. 

 

Ever since he came to live under Tony in his home, he’s been fucking with his mind. He can’t think as clearly as he used to because he’s been made into this sex crazed monster. 

 

He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

 

Tony brings his boxers to his knees. Peter curls in on himself. He’s completely naked. There’s not an inch of clothing covering his skin from Tony’s eyes. (Not to mention Bucky and Steve who must be still watching from the other room). 

 

“Touch yourself.” 

 

Peter is so shocked he doesn’t move. “Mr. Stark?” 

 

He leaned back in his chair. “You heard me. Touch yourself.” Noticing Peter’s hesitance, he added, “Just do what you do at home.” 

 

Peter didn’t move. 

 

“What, you shy?” Tony asked. “You weren’t being shy when demanding I fuck you.” 

 

Peter fumbled with his hands. “I… I don’t know how.” 

 

“You don’t know how?” 

 

“I…” 

 

Peter’d be a liar if he said he didn’t masturbate. Most teenagers do, but Peter… He didn’t often. He went through the self discovery phase a lot later than most. 

 

He gets crazy horny, arguably worse since the bite happened. Still, he doesn’t do the “lock the doors” routine. It was never his thing. Plus, May always had a tendency not to knock. 

 

“You what?” Tony asked impatiently. 

 

“I… I’ve never used my hands before,” Peter confessed. 

 

“You…” Tony’s impatient impressed subsided into a lopsided grin. “How do you get off?” 

 

“I…” he trailed off, scratching the back of his head. “Um, usually I use my pillow.” 

 

“You want my hand or my leg?” Tony asked. 

 

“What, sir?” 

 

He huffed. “You can either hump my leg like a dog, or you can use my hand. What’ll it be?” 

 

Peter’s woke up from dreams that went like that. Just a couple days ago, he was dreaming about grinding against his thigh and woke up against his mattress instead. 

 

He’d really enjoy it, but with the state he was in, it’d take far too long, and he was incredibly impatient. “Hand, please,” he said too quickly. 

 

He slowly pushed Peter backwards until he was laying flat against the bench. 

 

Peter had been working Tony for a bit now, and he’s done a lot of staring. When he’s focusing on his work, he gets this serious look on his face. He stares so intently at his projects; now that Peter is one, he finds himself the target of his inviting dark eyes. 

 

He’s completely naked in his cold lab where he is meticulous in his actions. He’s focused. Every motion is carefully thought out. 

 

He’d expect nothing less from Tony Stark. 

 

Tony pushes against the end of the plug. The vibrations roll up Peter’s spine, and he feels it building up in his stomach. 

 

He pushes back against Tony’s hand. The smallest movement from him was making Peter lose control in a way that made him embarrassed, but he couldn’t help it. He told himself to stop, but he couldn’t help but fuck himself on his hand. 

 

Peter starts seeing stars, so he closes his eyes. He enjoys the feeling of the plug being kneaded back and forth into him. He lets out a small squeak when it brushes against his prostate, and then he’s empty. 

 

After a second of realizing there was a holdup, Peter opened his eyes. Tony rolled his chair away and set the plug down on a tray. 

 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter asked, panting. 

 

“How’s those suit adjustments coming?” he asked instead of answering his question. 

 

Realization dawned on Peter. “That’s it?” he exclaimed, sitting up. “Mr. Stark, please--” 

 

“You’re my toy, Peter. You get what I give you and nothing else,” he said, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Aw, baby, stop crying. You don’t want me to give you a spanking, do you?” 

 

Peter hadn’t even realized a tear had escaped. “No, sir,” he mumbled weakly. “I’ll work on those suit adjustments.” 

 

“Good boy,” he praised, ruffling his hair. He got out of his chair and leaned down to whisper in his ear, “You always have your safeword if you need it. Color?” 

 

“Green, sir,” he replied, nodding. 

 

Tony smiled. “Tomorrow, Peter.” 

 

Green. Yeah, he was for sure green. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is short im so sorry,,, also i figured out how to make this anonymous, yay!
> 
> my user is lildouglas but i write alot of fluff and i didnt want my fluff lovers to find this fucked up piece of work sooooo anon it is lmao 
> 
> hope yall liked,,, next chapter will be out asap!!


	7. starboy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kinks in this chapter: foodplay (a lil), finger kink??? lmao, cheeky butt sex, and aftercare! enjoy!
> 
> also
> 
> HOT TIP: if you don’t like my work, don’t read. Haters go fuck yourselves, aight? Cool!
> 
> p.s. this chapter is under revision so don't mind

After growing up in poverty, Peter’s gotten used to shitty birthday gifts. He’s perfected the “I love it” face when opening something he wasn’t so pleased to get. 

 

However, nothing could hide the absolute disgust on his face when he opened his present from MJ and Ned. 

 

Peter sat cross legged on top of his bed with MJ, Ned, and Arya.

 

In disbelief, he held up the Iron Man dildo. “How much did you pay for this?” 

 

MJ let out a harsh laugh. “I thought you would’ve liked it,” Ned mumbled. “We got you something else too.” He pushed another box into Peter’s lap. 

 

Peter accepted the box hesitantly. “You guys really didn’t have to get me anything,” he said, feeling a little bit guilty. Ned threw a pillow at Peter’s face and motioned for him to open it. He cracked open the box to pull out a Star Wars pajama set. “Thanks, Ned!” 

 

“Alright, open mine next,” Arya ordered, handing her bag off to Peter. 

 

He smiled sheepishly and reached into the bag and pulled out a lingerie set. “Arya!” He quickly pushed it back into the bag. 

 

MJ reached for it. “Ooh, I wanna see!” 

 

“Peter, don’t act so embarrassed,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Come on, try it on for us.” 

 

Peter’s eyes popped out of his head. “Wh-what? No, I—“ 

 

“Just a joke,” she said, laughing. “It’d look good on you.” 

 

Peter huffed and pulled out the clothing set, which included a baby blue crop with matching panties with a giant bow on the back and an oversized sweater that read “pretty boy.” 

 

“I can’t wear this,” he said, blushing. 

 

“Aw,” Arya pouted, sniffling. “I can’t believe you…! I picked that out just for you.” 

 

Michelle hugged Arya close to her chest as the girl fake cried. “That’s cruel. Really, man. Not cool.” 

 

“It’s embarrassing!” Peter hissed. He looked to Ned for help, but he just shrugged. “It’s not my style.” 

 

“I don’t know, Pete, that shade of blue compliments your skin tone really well,” Ned said. Peter went still. Arya quit her fake crying and pulled back to laugh hysterically with Michelle. “Just saying, blue looks good on you.” 

 

Peter bit his lip. “Oh, alright! But just because of you, Ned…” 

 

Arya pumped her fist in victory. “I knew you’d like it.” 

 

“I’m still not putting it on for you,” he deadpanned. She frowned and put a hand over her heart. “Really, though, thank you all. I really love my gifts, and I love you all.” 

 

The three stayed for an hour or two before they started shuffling towards the door. “Seriously, how much did you pay for the… Iron dick?” 

 

“The store gives me an employee discount,” MJ said, waving her hand. “Don’t worry about it.” 

 

Peter sighed and gave her a kiss on the cheek goodbye. She waved and stepped through the door. He made sure to hug Ned awfully tight before giving him a fat smooch on the cheek as well. Before he could give Arya a peck, she grabbed the sides of his face and pressed a fat kiss to his lips. 

 

“Bye, Peter! Have a happy birthday!” 

 

He stood on shaky feet in the doorway. The door slammed behind them, and Peter was left all by himself. 

 

Not really by “himself” as he doesn’t get any alone time nowadays. 

 

“You have some interesting friends,” Clint noted over his shoulder. “Is everyone just madly in love with you?” 

 

Peter wipes the lipstick stain off of his face. “Nah, Arya’s just enthusiastic,” he grumbled. “We’re all just pals.” 

 

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because all three of them are smitten over you.” 

 

Peter laughed awkwardly. “Yeah, right.” 

 

“No, she’s serious,” Clint said. “I could tell too.” 

 

“Whatever,” Peter scoffed. He let out a tired yawn. “It’s not like that.” 

 

Escaping to his bedroom, he jumped into the pajamas Ned got him and climbed under his covers. 

  


Peter’s never been much of an early riser, but he’s used to the drill by now. He’s often woken up by alarms at four a.m. for a morning patrol before his classes. 

 

This morning he doesn’t wake up to an alarm. His eyes open slowly to a _loud_ room. He feels pleasure all over his body — a sure sign he’d had another wet dream. 

 

Choking, he sits up quickly only to be pushed back against the mattress. “Relax, kitten,” Bucky consoles, popping off his cock. 

 

Peter’s Star Wars underwear is pulled down to his thighs and the tank is rolled up to expose his stomach. Bucky’s hands are around the tip of his cock, working up and down, not touching anything other than the head. Peter wants to roll his head back and enjoy it, but he sits up instead. 

 

“Mr. Stark will be mad,” he cried, using all of his willpower to keep from bucking into his hand. 

 

“No birthday blowjob?” Bucky asked, sliding his hands down to make room for his mouth. 

 

An obscene moan leaves his lips. “He’ll be mad! I-I can’t…!” 

 

He popped off again. “It’s your birthday, kitten. You can come as much as you like today.” 

 

“I’ve heard that one before,” he mumbled bitterly. 

 

“What was that?” he asked sharply, stilling his movements. 

 

“Nothing,” he replied quickly. Then, hesitantly, “It’s not a trick, is it?” 

 

He shook his head. “Nope, no strings attached. Now are you gonna keep asking me dumb questions or can I finish your birthday blowjob?” 

 

“Yes, sir,” he nodded eagerly, giving in. Bucky sucked, and he screamed. Peter reached for a pillow to bury his face into, but it was out of reach. 

 

The heat in his stomach began to build, and Peter closed his eyes and waited for it to take over. He was just breaching it when the door burst open. “I heard screaming,” Steve said, panting. “Oh.” 

 

Bucky stopped again to look at the intruder. “Sergeant Barnes, please,” Peter begged, “I’m so close.” 

 

“You heard the birthday boy,” Steve said, shrugging. 

 

The building pleasure subsided and once again had to build up as Bucky continued. “You’re… staying?” he asked, hissing when his lips slid over his head. 

 

“I’ve been wanting to see your ‘O’ face since yesterday.” Steve moved to sit next to him on the bed. “You were very good, teasing Tony like that.” 

 

Peter’s legs shook, and he had to grip on to his thigh to keep from squeezing Barnes. He could easily kill him that way. “I was just doing what you told me to,” he confessed, squealing. “Oh, oh, fuck, I’m going to—“ 

 

Bucky didn’t stop. He moved his hands and mouth up and down until Peter was pushed over the edge. His body convulsed with it as he took him through it. The waves came to a halt, but Bucky’s movements did not. He let out a desperate yell for him to halt, and to his surprise, he did. 

 

“Happy birthday,” Bucky praised, climbing over him to suck a kiss on his neck. Peter, still in a post orgasm daze, hummed weakly. “You can’t be tired already; you have a whole party to get through.” 

 

“A party?” Peter asked. “You didn’t have to…” Bucky climbed off of him to grab a box off the nightstand. “Oh, no, really—“ 

 

“Just open it.” 

 

Peter carefully untied the ribbon and slid the top of the box off. And, of course, to no one’s surprise, it was more lingerie. 

 

Bucky got him a pair of long white stockings decked with a pretty pink bow at the top. In addition to the thigh high socks, there was a white and pink garter belt with a pair of ruffled white shorts and an oversized fluffy sweater. 

 

“Wow… I—“ 

 

“Close your eyes,” Bucky ordered, and he complied. There was some shuffling and then a hand brushing against his neck. He felt something fasten around his neck. “Too tight?” He shook his head. “Open your eyes.” 

 

Steve held out a mirror so Peter could inspect the collar: white lace with a baby pink bow in the front. Attached to the bow, a bell. 

 

An actual bell. 

 

“You like it, kitten?” Bucky experimentally poked the bell around his neck to hear it ring. 

 

“Thank you,” he said, and he meant it. 

 

There was something about the collar that got Peter going. It was firm around his neck; if he leaned his head too far back, it restricts his breathing just the tiniest bit but he doesn’t mind. He liked that when he moved, the bell rang. It showed who he belonged to. 

 

It was a nice reminder. “You’re spoiling me,” he said, picking up the clothes in his hand. “You’re turning me into a spoiled brat.” 

 

“You did that all on your own,” Bucky said, slipping off of the bed. “Fuck, you look _delightful._ How about we celebrate your party a little early?” 

 

Peter laughed. “Sergeant Barnes, I have some errands to do today,” he said, gently pushing him towards the door. He rolled his eyes and slipped out. Steve rose and pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

 

“You do look delightful,” he agreed. “Don’t be late for your party. It’s at four.” Peter nodded and waved as he slipped out. 

 

Sighing blissfully, Peter grabbed a change of clothes and stepped into the shower. Even though he had a wax just last week, he went ahead and shaved his legs again. He wanted to be perfect for them today, especially after they’ve done so much for him. 

 

He washed himself with the vanilla shower gel Michelle had gifted him from a sale she got at Bath and Body works. He admits the scent is girly, but it’s so soothing. 

 

To add to the scent, he sprays a glitter shimmer from Victoria Secret, which is also vanilla scented. He sprays a bit on his neck, leaving sparkles just below where his collar will sit. He runs his fingers over the soft lace of the collar before securing it around his neck. 

 

Next, he slips on the set of clothes Bucky had gifted him with his own personal touch. 

 

Peter stands in front of his bedroom mirrow and smooths out his outfit. He’s wearing the pink fluffy get up and the white ruffly shorts and the thigh high white and pink socks. 

 

To complete the outfit, he applies a soft pink lipgloss to his lips. He smacks his lips together and hesitantly checks himself out. 

 

 _I am cute,_ he thought to himself, trying to convince himself. He repeated it a couple of times before slipping out the door. 

 

“I made you breakfast,” Sam said, catching him in the hallway. Peter had barely even taken two steps before running into him. “Your favorite.” He looked him over. “Wow, Peter, you look… stunning. Happy birthday.” 

 

“Thanks,” he said for the millionth time that day. “Bucky got it for me.” 

 

“Who new Barnes had such good taste?” Sam hummed. Peter walked with him towards the kitchen where he’d set some wheatcakes on a plate. Peter slid into the seat, said a small prayer, and started cutting up the cake. “What’s the hurry?” 

 

“I have some stuff to do before the party,” he said shortly, choking down the pancake. Sam rests his chin on his palm and watches him eat. 

 

“Really? No work stuff is it?” 

 

Peter shook his head. “Nah, I’m going to visit my aunt,” he said, smiling. 

 

Sam looked him over. “You’re wearing that out?” 

 

Peter shrugged. “Yeah?” he asked, knowing exactly what he was doing. 

 

“You can’t wear that out,” he said. “Someone might grab you.” 

 

Peter laughed. “I’m Spider-Man. No one’s going to grab me.” He finished the wheatcake and stood up. “I promise I’ll be back in time.” 

 

“No,” Sam said, grabbing his elbow before he breached the doorway. Sam grabbed his leather jacket off of the hanger and threw it at Peter. “Wear this.” 

 

Peter inspected his army jacket. “It doesn’t match,” he said, slipping his feet into the white and pink adidas shoes.

 

“You’re not going out in that,” he growled. 

 

“I’m not?” Peter asked, opening the front door. Sam grabbed the collar of his shirt and pressed him against the wall. He let out a nervous laugh. “You don’t own me, Mr. Wilson.” 

 

“The collar around your neck says otherwise,” he retorted. 

 

Peter hummed. “Oh, come on, no one’s going to see me. I’m just visiting my comatose aunt, and the staff won’t even look at me.” 

 

Sam let go. “Is your aunt okay?” 

 

Peter stiffened. “I, uh, I got to go,” he said. “I’ll be back in time, I promise.” 

 

As promised, no one really saw Peter. Once outside, he slipped his suit on and swang to the hospital. He changed in an alleyway before slipping into the retirement home’s garden center. It’s relatively easy for him to break in unnoticed. He really should say something to the staff, but it’s an awkward conversation to have. 

 

He sits with May. Her cuts have healed by now. She looks peaceful. 

 

“May, if you hear this, I’m sorry,” he said. 

 

If your only surviving family was a slutty superhero, how would you feel? 

 

Peter doesn’t think too much about it. He stays for another couple hours before leaving. 

 

In the streets, he plugs in his earbuds and starts walking back home. It’s a little after lunch, and the streets are crowded as always, but Peter easily slips unnoticed by the passerbyes. 

 

Something does attract his attention. A sex shop, plain as day, in the middle of the street. A “clearance” sign catches his eye. It’s really pitiful, but money is tight. Even with his Avengers salary and Tony’s funds from being a fluffer and an intern, he has college and hospital bills to pay for. 

 

A stranger walking by bumps into him harshly. He’s been standing still in front of the shop too long. Moving out of the way, he stumbles into the door. 

 

He… he has been working really hard lately, and everyone’s been so nice to him. Maybe he should bring something home? 

 

It’s stupid, really, he’s gotten enough lingerie, but after imagining the looks on their faces if he comes home with something skimpy… He has to look.

 

On display in the front (the most innocent products line the front of the store in case of any small children’s wandering eyes) is a headpiece. A small headband with white cat ears attached to it makes him go still in the store. 

 

“Whoa, Peter, what’re you doing here?” Peter almost jumps at the sudden intrusion. MJ grabs his shoulders and grabs the headband out of his hands. “Aw, you look cute.” She adjusted the band and slipped it over his messy brown hair. 

 

“You work at two different sex shops?” Peter asked, raising an eyebrow. 

 

She put a hand on her hip. “You’re not the only one needing to pay student loans,” she grumbled. She waved a hand. “Besides, Arya got me the job.” Behind the counter, Arya is busy dealing with a customer. She manages a small smile before being pulled back into her conversation. “You looking for a ‘treat yo self’ gift?” Peter blushed. “No shame. It’s not weird.” 

 

“No, I just…” He jabbed a thumb towards the window. “I saw the sign.” 

 

“Ah, yes, classic Parker. You can’t resist a sale,” she said, nodding. They’ve really known each other for too long. She grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the mirror. She adjusted Peter’s hair around the cat ears. 

 

“I thought I could get them something nice,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “If I buy something from a sex shop, is it a gift for me or for them? I… I can’t tell.” 

 

MJ hummed. “You’re a gift,” she cooed. “You look stunning in that.” 

 

“I don’t know…” 

 

“I’ll give you an extra 25% off,” she sang. 

 

Peter was sold. 

 

He wore the cat ears all the way home. MJ knew what she was doing when it came to fashion. She was the one to teach him how to apply lipstick, even though Peter gave up and sticks to simple glosses and maybe mascara. Maybe. If he’s brave. 

 

Friday scans him, and he’s slipping inside the house half past three. In the living room, there’s decorations thrown all over the place. Stunned, Peter kicks his shoes off in the doorway. 

 

“Peter,” Clint cheered, finishing putting a banner in place. “Whoa, that’s quite the outfit you got there.” 

 

Peter neatly set his shoes into a cubby. While down there, he organized some of the other carelessly kicked off shoes. It was his birthday, but he did still have duties to clean. 

 

“Thanks,” he said, sniffing. “What’s that smell?” 

 

“Sam’s baking,” he said, deflating. 

 

“You get kicked out of the kitchen?” Peter asked, grabbing a side of a birthday banner. 

 

“Hey, you can’t help decorate for your own party.” He slapped his hand off of the side. 

 

Peter raised an eyebrow. “I’m sticky, Mr. Barton.” He wagged his fingers for emphasis. 

 

“Go,” Clint ordered, and Peter slinked into the kitchen. 

 

Sam was finishing frosting a cake when Peter walked in. Peter peered over his shoulder and grabbed the near empty can of frosting. He pulled the butterknife out of the container to lick along it. 

 

Sam watched him with careful eyes. “Your sweet tooth not satisfied after this morning?” 

 

Peter licked his lips. “I can’t help myself.” 

 

Without warning, Sam picked him up by his hips and dropped him on the counter. He pushed his baking supplies out of the way and landed his lips on Peter’s. Peter still had the strawberry frosting on his tongue, and Sam practically ate it up. Peter moaned into the kiss and wrapped his legs around Sam. 

 

There was a beep. “Oh, those are the cookies!” he said, pulling away from Peter to slip on an oven mitt. 

 

Peter sat up. “Mr. Wilson?” he whined. “I thought there wouldn’t be any teasing today.” 

 

Sam stepped dangerously close. “I can’t help myself,” he mocked, using Peter’s own words. He pulled his sweater down so he could look at the collar around his neck. “You’re the one that’s teasing, baby.” 

 

Peter frowned and hopped off the counter. “Fine, then.” 

 

Sam did look apologetic for a moment. “I really do have to finish baking for _your_ party.” 

 

“Yeah, okay,” he sighed, smiling. “Your baking is pretty good.” 

 

Sam grinned back. “Also, Peter--” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“You keep running around in that outfit in yours, you’ll find someone to give you what you want.” 

 

Peter wasn’t really _looking_ at the moment, but he might as well. They’re not so giving in that department (until they are, and it’s torture). Peter shivered at the thought and made his way into the living room. 

 

Bruce was sitting in the recliner with his tablet. “Hi, Dr. Banner,” Peter chirped. 

 

Bruce looked up from his tablet. “Hi, Peter--” He stopped short. “Wow. You look cute.” 

 

Out of all of them, Bruce is the only one who’s never made any advances towards him. He always thought the man was asexual. Or something. 

 

“Thank you,” Peter said. He sat down on the couch, and he turned on the TV to fill the awkward silence. Criminal Minds was playing, but he wasn’t paying attention. “Um, Dr. Banner?” He put away his tablet. “Do you like sex?” 

 

A pink blush dusted his face. Peter couldn’t laugh though because his does the same thing constantly. “I suppose as much as the next guy.” 

 

Peter nodded. “Oh.” Awkward silence again. It hit him. “Oh, you’re a bottom!” 

 

Pink turned to red. “No,” he said softly.

 

Peter put his hands over his mouth. Before he could even start trying to fix the situation, Tony slipped into the living room. “Don’t mind him, Bruce. He’s just being a little shit so we’ll give him attention.” He wasn’t, but now he has that idea in his head. “Does he look like a bottom to you?” 

 

Peter studied Bruce. He looks like a “daddy” or the kind of “professor” dream he used to have in Highschool. He couldn’t say that, though. “N-No.” 

 

An amused Tony stalked his way next to Peter. “What’s he look like?” 

 

He stepped in front of him. Peter challenged his mocking gaze and gulped. “A good looking guy.” 

 

Tony frowned. “You can do better than that, Pete,” he said. Peter was silent. “Come on, I don’t bite.” A thoughtful look. “Well. Sometimes.” 

 

Bruce cleared his throat. “What do I look like, Peter?” 

 

Put on the spot, he was at a loss. Throwing it to hell, he said, “Hot professor?” 

 

Tony clapped his hands together. “That’s what I said!” 

 

“That’s very nice of you,” he said, smiling shyly. Peter’s heart skipped a beat in his chest. Why are all the Avengers so damn hot? 

 

Peter’s perplexed face didn’t go away. “Before you ask, he’s a switch,” Tony said. “And a comitted one at that.” 

 

“Really? May I ask who?” he asked, excited. 

 

“T--” 

 

“Guess,” Tony said, smirking. “Guess who it is.” 

 

Exasperated, Bruce sighed. “Why?” 

 

“Because it’s fucking hilarious. Peter, guess.” 

 

“Is it Natasha?” Tony burst out laughing. 

 

“He’s never going to guess,” Bruce said, holding up his hand and his banded finger. “I’m engaged to Thor.” 

 

Peter went still. “Thor? Like, the god of thunder Thor?” he gaped, going pale. “The very strong and muscular Thor?” Oh. Oh, that was bad. “I’m not thirsting after your fiance, I swear!” 

 

Bruce laughed. “We’re open to that kind of thing,” he said, waving his hand. “As long as it’s purely sexual.” He held up a finger. “Don’t get your hopes up though because I’m under similar rules as you at the moment.” 

 

Peter puffed his chest out. “Well, actually, I’m rule free today,” he proudly announced. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited for a birthday.” 

 

“Speaking of which, it’s time we start celebrating,” Tony said, pulling him into his lap. 

 

Tony’s lap was one of Peter’s favorite places to be. The man was unmercilessly cruel to him, but he loved it. Excitedly, Peter chased his lips for a chaste kiss before he was being hoisted up and carried into the room. 

 

Tony left the door open and paused at a box in the middle of the room. “We’ll be in the playroom!” Tony announced. 

 

“Playroom?” Peter asked. “Playroom? That’s what you call this.” 

 

Tony shrugged. “It’s either that or sex dungeon.” 

 

Peter nodded. “Playroom it is.” He looked at the box unsteadily. “What is that?” 

 

“Put your head in it.” 

 

The box in question was a black, padded cube. At the top of it was a small hole with padding around it. Confused, he complied. As soon as he did, the circle moved, and his head was being restrained. “Can you breathe okay?” Tony asked, even though he knew for a fact he could. (He’d never do anything actually dangerous. 

 

“Yes, sir,” he replied, biting his lip from inside the box. There was some shuffling. “Was I bad?” It was a genuine question. 

 

Tony laughed anyways. “Sweetheart, no,” he cooed. A warm hand pressed against his back. “These are just your birthday spankings.” 

 

“Oh,” Peter sighed out of relief. “Oh. Oh, wait, what?” 

 

“Birthday spankings,” Tony repeated. 

 

Peter, unable to see Tony, prepared for impact. “Wait, wait!” he said, feeling compromised. His head was trapped in a box and his ass was in the air. It was a compromising position. 

 

“It’s only eighteen,” Tony said, assuring him. “Just eighteen. You can handle it. Paddle or whip?” 

 

Last time he picked what he wanted, he got the opposite. “Whip!” he replied quickly. Whips are, by far, way more painful than paddles. As Spider-Man, he gets hit a lot. He knows. 

 

“Whip, it is.” 

 

Peter paused. “Uh, you were supposed to say ‘nope, sorry, I’m a sadistic asshole, so you’re getting the paddle because you wanted the whip.’” 

 

“Okay.” There was movement. “I’m a sadistic asshole, so you’re getting what you just asked for.” 

 

Peter deflated. “That’s so unfair,” he sighed. 

 

“I’ll make you a deal since I’m so nice.” 

 

_Trap. That’s a trap._

 

“You count all eighteen of these for me and I’ll fuck you tonight.” 

 

He cleared his throat. “I can do that,” he said, trying to keep his voice as even as possible. 

 

Tony pulled down the shorts to his ankles. The cold air hit his backside, and he braced himself for impact. 

 

The first hit came, and Peter wanted to move forward, but there was nowhere to go. The box kept him perfectly in place. “O-One, sir!” The next hit came, and Peter counted each of them. 

 

By the time he got to ten, Peter’s entire body was shaking. Tony relented just for a moment. Peter took it as a mercy, but then the relief faded and he had no idea when the next was coming. 

 

He was about to call out to Tony when the next hit came. Peter sputtered. “What number was that?” Tony asked. “Five?” 

 

“Eleven, sir!” he said, panicked. “Eleven. Eleven.” 

 

He hummed. “You’re not lying to me, are you?” 

 

“No, sir, I’m not,” he said, panting. “It’s eleven, I promise.” 

 

“Don’t. Forget. The. Count.” 

 

Peter nodded. “Right, sir. I--” The next hit came. “Fuck, twelve, sir!” 

 

He doesn’t know how he made it through the next six. Finally, the last came, and he was done. The box released him, and his head popped out. 

 

“Fuck, sir--” 

 

Tony clicked his tongue and gently guided his head back into the box. Peter shivered in anticipation. “I _swear_ I counted eighteen!” 

 

“You did good, Peter,” he praised. 

 

Tony was a smart, smart man. He knew what to say to calm him down in a matter of seconds. Peter melted under the praise and heard the uncapping of a bottle. 

 

Peter perked up. _This is it. Oh my god._

 

This was not how he ever expected his first time to go, but here he is in the sex dungeon with his head in a box and his ass in the air. 

 

What Peter thought was lube was spread over his ass. Except, wasn’t lube supposed to be more… lubricant-y? 

 

“It’s lotion, baby,” Tony cooed, laughing darkly. “I promise I’ll fuck you later.” 

 

_That bastard always reads right through me._

 

He pulled Peter’s shorts back up and slowly tugged him out of the box. “It hurts,” he whined, wincing. 

 

“Want me to make it up to you?” he asked, tugging Peter towards him. He wasn’t ready to sit on the bench just yet. Despite the humiliation, he couldn’t get off his knees. “Come here, I’ll kiss you better.” 

 

His ass stung like hell, but that wasn’t an offer he was willing to give up. He spun around.

 

Never wanting to waste time, he pulled Peter on top of his lap and prodded his lips with his tongue. Peter allowed him access and moaned into the kiss. “I...It hurts!” 

 

“Why are you hard?” Tony asked, pausing the kiss. Peter was silent as Tony pressed a kiss to his neck. He ran his fingers over the collar. “You like getting spanked that much?” 

 

“Only by you,” he said, chasing his lips for another kiss. 

 

Tony grabbed him by his cheeks. “Not Barnes?” he asked dangerously. “Who do you like better?” 

 

Peter shook his head. An impossible question. 

 

Without warning, he hoisted Peter up off his lap to carry him into the living room where everyone was gathering. Peter, oblivious to the crowd as he had his face buried in Tony’s neck, whined, “Please.” 

 

Tony, making eye contact with Bucky, asked, “Who do you want to fuck you tonight?” Peter whimpered. “Me or Barnes?” 

 

“Please.” 

 

“What’d I tell you about being articulate?” Tony tsked, giving a light slap to his ass, making him jolt with a loud whimper. 

 

“Both, fuck, please,” he cried. “Please.” 

 

Tony raised an eyebrow. “That’s quite a jump, virgin.” 

 

“Both,” he repeated, more confidently. “Please, sir?” 

 

Tony looked to bucky, who shrugged. “Guess that ends that argument,” he said, going with it. “You heard the birthday boy.” 

 

Peter lifted his head from his neck to meet Bucky’s soft hand stroking his hair. “Kitten, you look lovely.” Peter leaned into the comfort. 

 

Tony sat in a chair, making sure to keep ahold of Peter in his lap. Next to him was Bucky and Steve with the others across the table. Sam brought out the cake and they sang to him before he blew out the candles. 

 

“Want me to go get plates?” Peter offered, wanting to be some type of help since he is their slave, and everyone is slaving away for him. 

 

“I had… other ideas,” Sam said, picking up a small piece of cake in his hands. He held it out to Peter, who hesitantly leaned forward. Tony stroked his hair softly while he covered his teeth with his lips and swallowed the cake. Sam helped him out a little bit, sticking in one finger at a time for Peter to lick. 

 

Natasha, unamused, got a plate out of the cuboard. “I’ll pass,” she said, coming around the side to give him a peck on the cheek. “Happy birthday, Peter.” 

 

He smiled back and laughed as she slapped Clint’s hand from stealing her piece. 

 

Peter leaned forward to grab his own piece. “Mr. Wilson, it’s my turn,” he sang, doing the absolute same thing. 

 

Sam wasn’t one for cake, but he did opt for sucking on his fingers to make the boy happy. 

 

“I’m still sticky,” he complained. 

 

“That’s why we use plates,” Natasha said, holding up hers. “You horny bastards.” 

 

“Damn right,” Tony said, holding up his glass. 

 

“Ooh, what’s that?” Peter asked. 

 

“You have to wait three years for that one,” he said, taking a sip. “But I guess I could give you a little taste.” 

 

They kissed until he was being scooped up. “I _can_ walk,” he said. 

 

 _Please never put me down,_ he thought. 

 

Tony carried him back into the playroom. “In here?” Peter asked. 

 

Tony opened one of the side doors to reveal a huge bed. It was like a King but bigger. Peter’d never seen a bed this big, and now he was being thrown on top of it. 

 

“You sure about this, kitten?” Bucky asked in the doorway. 

 

Tony paused in taking off his clothes. Peter nodded enthusiastically. “Are you kidding? I’ve been waiting for this for weeks.” 

 

Tony finished pulling off the boy’s shorts and untucked his cock out of his jeans. He started to jerk himself with one hand and Peter with the other. “Barnes, give him a hand.” 

 

Bucky grabbed a bottle of lube and squirted some into his hand. He pressed a finger to his asshole and lightly pushed in. As soon as his finger was pushed in all the way, he started working it in and out. Then, he added another. Soon after that, he was using three fingers, and Peter was mewling.  He couldn't help but wince at the slight stretch and the burning feeling, but he has felt far, far worse. It stings for a moment as he works him through it, but soon enough, his cries of pain turn into pleasured moans. 

 

Bucky pulled his fingers out, and he cried at the loss. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Peter groaned, and Tony replaced Bucky’s hand with his own. He fingered him, feeling around for his prostate while jerking his cock with his other hand. “Mr. Stark, I’m--Fuck!” 

It was slightly mortifying how quickly he came all over himself. He is a teenager with a high sex drive, and the enhanced spider senses make it about a million times worse. From the spanking and the fingerlicking (which he was only slightly disturbed of considering how turned on it made him), he really was a mess. When he was around them, they made his sex drive crazy. 

What can he say? The man oozes sex appeal.

 

“Let go, Peter,” he said gently, bringing him over the edge. Peter didn’t want to because he had something way better to look forward to, but he didn’t have much of a choice. “That’s a good boy.” 

 

The aftershocks left him a twitching mess. The hand pulled out, and the hand around his cock loosely moved. 

 

Tony lined his cock up with his entrance and slowly pushed in. Even with the strawberry lube coating his cock, he still winced in pain as he eased in. He stopped about halfway before pulling back and pushing back in. 

 

Peter dropped his head and let Tony thrust slowly into his body. He jolted with every thrust. “Ah!” he cried. He moved faster and faster until Peter grew accustomed to it. He tried his best to catch every thrust with his hips. There's a lot going through his mind, and his body is shaking like a leaf -- not from fear but from excitement. Putty in his hands, he can be whatever he wants him to be. This the man who he's idolized since he was a child. The man who saved him from missions gone south. Billionaire, playboy, philantrophist. A simple hand touch from him sends him reeling. He's always been a believer in "sex without feelings," even as a virgin. He never thought it mattered that much. It's not to say he has feelings, per say, but he's definetely feeling something. When Tony touches him, he leaves electricity in his wake. His body lights on fire for the man, and all he has to do is ask. The position is surprisingly intimate, the most intimate thing he's ever done before. He tries to tell himself it's just sex and he should focus on how good he's feeling, but he can't help but enjoying the sweet sayings he's whispering in his ear. He shouldn't be this attached to his boss, but that's what insanely hot sex does to a man. Peter already felt himself getting close _again,_ and then Tony was cumming, and Peter moaned as he felt it. He felt so… full, and he couldn’t help but push back on the cock that was already pulling out. 

 

“Don’t worry, kitten,” Bucky said, taking his place. Peter nodded excitedly as Bucky slid in in one go. He was already loose enough, but he still felt it where Tony’s cock nor fingers could reach. He thrusts in at a steady pace, and Peter chokes. 

One man is enough to make his knees buckle, but two? To have two of them fawning over him, touching him. There's two sets of hands on his body, touching him, feeling him. Tony is still talking him through it. Smart, smart Tony, who always knows what to say. He knows just how to make him feel good.

 

When he gets close, he doesn’t speed up. He keeps going slow and steady, cautiously thrusting in in no hurry. “Fuck, please, Sergeant Barnes!” he wrapped his legs around his middle and hugged him close. His hand reached out, and Tony caught it. His other hand gripped the mattress cover so tight it was ripping. “Please, please, please.” 

The building pressure is almost too much for him. He's hyperaware of the situation, where he is. He can feel the tight collar around his neck, a clear reminder of who he belongs to. He can feel the cock pounding into him, he can feel the way he clenches around it. He can feel the warmth their hands provide (and in the case of Bucky's metal hand, cold). 

It was so pleasantly overwhelming. He'd always dreamed of what sex felt like (typically with a woman, but funny how things turn out), and he'd imagined heaven based on what he was told. He didn't imagine the way it builds and builds. 

He didn't imagine the real heaven being under their hands.

 

“Come for me, kitten,” Bucky said, thrusting as he chased his own release. Bucky didn’t stop thrusting until the overstimulation was too much for him. Peter, however, was still reeling. 

 

“I’m so close,” he cried. Bucky thrusted again slowly, but he made sure to grab his side with his hand. 

 

“You’re doing so good,” Tony praised. “You take our cocks so well.” 

 

“You’re perfect,” he cooed, giving one more thrust, and Peter was a goner. He kept thrusting at the same pace and added a hand to his cock. Peter let out a scream, which turned into blissful giggles. 

 

The hand around his cock moved slowly, but it wasn’t fast enough for Peter to care. His eyelids dropped, and he rested his head against the mattress. 

 

After a minute, the hand started to pick up pace, and Peter writhed. “I… I don’t think I can.” 

 

“You can, baby, and you will,” Tony said, slipping three fingers in as Bucky jerked him. 

 

Peter’s body didn’t stop shaking. He was a writhing mess. His ass was covered with red crop marks that stung everytime he brushed against the mattress, but that’s nothing compared to the stretch of the fingers and the overstimulation of Tony’s hand. It’s far too much, but he still bucks into the hand. 

 

“Fuck, daddy!” Peter cried, letting out a string of broken moans. 

 

They don’t stop, but they both slow down. They exchanged glances and take a peek at the boy, who has no idea what he just said. “What’d you just say, baby?” Tony asked. 

 

His brown doe eyes fluttered open to reveal a couple of tears that refused to fall. Realization hit him and he gasped. “Oh, no, no, that was…! Look, I can explain.” 

 

“Alright,” Bucky said. “Explain.” 

 

Peter opened his mouth to explain, but he couldn’t find any reasonable excuse to shouting “daddy” in bed. “I didn’t think I was going to get this far.” 

 

Tony snorted. “I should’ve pegged you for a daddy kink sooner,” he said. “Damn, that’s hot.” 

 

“I don’t have one,” he said, pouting. The hand moved again, and he gasped. 

 

“Say it again,” Tony ordered, and Peter rolled his head to the side. “Call me Daddy.” 

 

The hand sped up. When Peter went over the edge, he screamed his name, his daddy’s name, and cried for the both of them as his eyes fluttered shut and he was taken through it. He felt the heat throughout his body, and he thought it’d never stop. 

 

He’d never felt anything like this. 

 

“Happy birthday, baby boy,” he said, kissing him as he closed his eyes. 

 

“Sweet dreams, kitten,” Bucky said, kissing his other cheek. 

 

“I want more cake,” he demanded. “And a bath.” 

 

Tony rubbed his hands over his body. “I’ll get the cake. You start the bath.” 

 

Peter was too tired to think, but he was being manhandled again. He was carried into the playroom to the door on the other side. He lifted his head in confusion until he saw the room. “What is this?” he mumbled. 

 

Friday already had the bath water filling. Bucky slipped off Peter’s clothes and tucked him into the bathtub, which was probably big enough to fill five people. 

 

Tony arrived with cake in hand. 

 

“Mr. Stark, this tub is as big as my childhood pool!” Peter said, watching Bucky pour in a bathbomb. The bathtub filled with pink. 

 

They washed him together, their giggly, blissful boy. 

 

This really was the best birthday he’d ever had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT PLS READ: This series is not over!! this is just book one!! if u liked, stay tuned bc i have much more stuff planned! thank you all for ur support! (and seriously, keep all hateful comments to yourself, please) 
> 
> LESS IMPORTANT BUT ID APPRECIATE U STILL READ: There was no use of condoms in this chapter, but I encourage them irl!!  
> 1\. Wear condoms!!  
> 2\. Pee after sex!! (utis arent sexy ok)

**Author's Note:**

> hi!!! so, uh, not my usual thing, lol, but if u enjoyed, lemme know??? 
> 
> ps this isnt gonna have a slow burn, the good stuff will be in next chapter (that is, if anyone is interested???)
> 
> pss also not underage bc peter is 17, and consenting age is 17, so uh, my morals are still in tact, also uhh peter is not being exploited, i know it's sex "slave" but it's reallt not slavery.... just sex work people


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